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“Arrel! my Arrel! tell me that the cruel story I overheard to-night 

untrue! Oh, tell me this, I implore!” 


IS 











BEYOND THE 


MENACE 


my 


HARRIETT GRAHAM ^EWIS 


V 







1923 


THE STRATFORD COMPANY, Publishers 
Boston, Massachusetts 





















i 


26 1923 


05584 ^ 





Preface 


? 


Destiny has two currents, 

And men are free to choose 

The current of high ideals, 

Or the opposite — as they please. 

*** *** 

The current of high ideals 
Flows into quiet seas. 

To islands where clear sweet streams 
And odors from pure ozone are found. 

And where integrity and trust abound. 

There, peace sings paens with the breeze. 

And the tender blossoms 
Of the starry-eyed heartsease 
Smile up to summer skies 
All the year around. 

##>» 

The current of low ideals • 

Glides swiftly through poppy fields; 

To deep, dank woods and tangled wilds; 

Where cypress trees hang over stagnant pools 
Pools with slippery brinks — 

There, vultures, foul as those 
Which hover over Parsec’s towers. 

Are wont to flock and drink. 

There, virtue is lost. 

And sense of honor dies. 


H. G. L. 









TO MY LOVED ONES WHO LIVE IN OTHER SPHERES 


AND TO MY FRIEND LENA MAY CRUM 
EARTH-BOUND SPIRIT, THIS WORK IS 
INSCRIBED. 


A NOBLE 
TENDERLY 


The Author 


'Vf/JKw 


i' 


Contents 


Chapter 

I 

II 

III 

IV 
V 

VI 

VII 

VIII 

IX 

X 

XI 

XII 

XIII 

XIV 
XV 

XVI 

XVII 

XVIII 


Page 


. 1 

. 12 
. 24 
, 37 
. 47 


. 57 
. 62 
. 74 
. 92 
. 106 
. Ill 
. 119 
. 130 
. 141 
. 144 
. 158 
. 173 
. 176 












CONTENTS 


Chapter 

XIX 

XX 

XXI 

XXII 


Page 
. 185 
. 202 
. 215 
. 223 







r 

• M 








CHAPTER I 


A few decades ago there lay adjacent to the town of 

A.-, in the state of Georgia, a fine, large plantation 

known as Spencer Place. The house was of grey stone, three 
stories, with deep mullioned windows, wide galleries and 
Gothic roof. The mansion stood far back in the grounds. 
One caught but glimpses of it from the road between laurels, 
live oaks and climbing vines. A broad cement walk led from 
the gate to the house, and through a double iron gate, between 
massive stone pillars, a circling driveway led back to spacious 
stables. 

At the time this story opens the lawn was dotted with 
beds of spring flowers. Back of the house was a large garden, 
well-filled with flowers, shrubs and early vegetables. A second 
walk wound down a grassy slope to a park, comprising a rich 
glade of many acres over which the grass was springing a 
vivid emerald green. The park held deer and antelope, and 
was enclosed with a high wire fence. A lake, fed by springs 
which bubbled diamond clear from a rocky spur, lay sparkling 
in the sun. Prom this spur a brook ran babbling to a river 
which flowed for a mile or more just outside the park fence. 
A wall separated an orchard from the park, and stately forest 
trees, some gnarled, like centenarians, tossed their freshly 
clothed boughs into the blue, adding their glad rustle to 
Nature’s triumphal symphony: Life! Life! ascended from 
the dust again — laughing, fresh and glorious as on the first 
morning of creation. Life! Life ! elusive, infinite, eternal! 
Upon the great porch in front of the mansion, a small 

[I] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


boy stood watching a carriage, of which he had glimpses be¬ 
tween the trees as it came up the hill from the city. In the 
hall the housekeeper and the boy’s black nurse were watching 
it also. 

Soon the clatter of hoofs struck the paved driveway. A 
minute later the vehicle came into full view. Presently it 
drew up and stopped before the house. 

The barouche door swung open; a man in evening dress, 
followed by a handsomely gowned lady, stepped out and lifted 
from it a fluffy bundle which he brought and deposited beside 
the boy. 

“Harry, my son, I have brought you a sister. Isn’t she 
sweet ? ’ ’ 

The boy did not answer. Dumb with surprise and delight, 
he stood gazing at the pretty baby. 

The lady came forward and ascended the porch steps. 

“What a handsome boy he is, Robert!” She bent and 
put an arm about the boy. 

‘ ‘ Harry, I am your new mamma. This is my baby. Her 
name is Gwin. I will give her to you now. I hope you will 
be kind to her and love her, for you are a big strong boy, 
and she is such a wee girl. Will you, dear?” 

“Yes ma’am, I will!” 

Harry’s response was so prompt and hearty it brought 
a close embrace and a warm kiss from Mrs. Spencer, which, 
with the gift she had bestowed, won his good little heart. 
From this hour, he was baby Gwin’s guardian, example and 
hero. Soon the two children were inseparable companions. 


Fifteen times an exhausted calendar had been succeeded 
by a new one at Spencer Place since the pretty baby came 
there to live; fifteen times the radiant aster had watched 

[2] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


the poppy fade; and fifteen times the aspens and the elms 
had changed their foliage, compelling black Dan to skim 
and skim, to keep the face of the lake bright. Gwin was a 
tall, slender girl of eighteen now, and Harry Spencer was 
twenty years old. She could not recollect the day she first 
saw Spencer Place. Harry could remember the scene on 
which a sister was bequeathed to him. Looking backward 
now, he counted that one of the happiest moments of his life. 
One of his bitterest experiences — the memory of which to 
this day filled him with self-commiseration, even while it 
provoked a smile, was when Mr. Finn, a neighborhood busy¬ 
body, enlightened him as to his and Gwin’s relationship. 
When Gwin learned it, several months later, she shed hitter 
tears. But she promptly blotted “stepbrother’’ from her 
vocabulary, declaring that Harry was the dearest and best 
boy alive, and he was her brother. 

Squire Spencer, the owner of this beautiful home, and 
his son Harry bore no resemblance to each other. Nature 
keeps her secret as to the strange alert force which starts 
the prenatal shuttle to weaving threads into characteristics 
in her children that will create antithesis and antagonism, 
even in twin brothers. She will impel one to success by 
bestowing traits upon him which lift him to eminence, almost 
without his volition, while she binds another to failure by 
denying him the faculty to perceive the potential value of 

those gifts. 

The squire was small, wiry, nervous, with keen blue eyes, 
long thin nose, thin, compressed lips, hair almost flaxen, an 
ungovernable temper and a high falsetto voice. Harry was 
dark, and was endowed with a fine, large physique, a brow 
bright with intellect, a placid temper, a dignified mien, and 

[3] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


a nature which blended virile strength with a tender heart 
and good judgment. 

Although Squire Spencer was purblind along some lines, 
often permitting his temper to cheat and rule him, he was 
never blind to commercial values. He was an expert finan¬ 
cier. This was a family trait. 

Jay Spencer, the squire’s great-grandfather, came over 
from England in an early day, and preempted a part of the 
land which now was known as Spencer Place. He built the 
house, which at first was a sort of fort, turreted and loop- 
holed; but it had been rebuilt and modernized, and the 
grounds beautified, until it was now one of the handsomest 
homes in the state. 

But Jay could not get away from the English way of 
doing things. He bequeathed Spencer Place to his eldest son, 
stipulating that this custom was to be adhered to. Conse¬ 
quently, it had been handed down thus to the fourth gener¬ 
ation. The will making Harry Spencer the beneficiary was 
defused the day he was born. 

When all things ran smoothly with Squire Spencer he 
was quite a gentleman; but when they ran awry, he behaved 
like a fool, and resembled a little fiend. Patience was an 
unknown quantity in his system. 

Mrs. Spencer was a nice dignified lady with great family 
pride; very religious, but not always tactful — especially 
when it came to the management of her husband and her 
daughter. She was very zealous in sowing the “good seed.” 
She scattered it profusely, in season and out of season, unable 
to discern that there are times when even the “good seed” 
does harm. 

The squire was religious, too, — when he was sick. 

[4] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘When the Devil was sick, the Devil a monk would be; 

When the Devil was well, the Devil a monk was he.’^ 

t 

So Mrs. Spencer often offered the squire a crumb from 
the “Bread of Life’’ when its effect on him was kinetic as 
if he had sat down upon a sharp pin. However, she did 
her moralizing when he seemed to be most in need of it, 
regardless. In all the years that she had lived with Squire 
Spencer she did not know him and she knew her own daugh¬ 
ter little better. She declared that neither the squire nor 
Gwin was a type. She wondered why Providence had placed 
her in juxtaposition with two such enigmatical characters? 

“Dear! dear!” she sometimes bewailed, “I don’t know 
who Gwinnie takes after — not her mother. It must be some 
Vauce, generations back.” 

But there was plenary understanding between Gwin and 
Harry, and they were “good fellows” together. Each was 
ready for anj^ sport which the other might suggest, be it 
wolf-hunt, or chess-game. Gwin was hard to beat at either. 
She was a fearless horsewoman and a crack shot. Her nature 
was tender and responsive, her intellect quick and inquiring. 
She entered sympathetically and understandingly into all 
Harry’s aims and pursuits. They condoned with and advised 
each other, read and studied together, sang and danced 
together; took long gallops on horseback together, and were 
never quite happy when separated. 

Gwin, like the squire, had an impetuous temper; but, 
unlike him, she strove to preserve her dignity when angry. 
She did not always succeed, for anger is seldom conducive 
to dignity. But Harry saw charm even in her waywardness. 
It accentuated her naive individuality and induced little 
characteristic poises and mannerisms which he called splendid. 

[5] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Gwin early evinced signs of musical genius. Squire 
Spencer kept private tutors for his children; so he installed 
a professor of music in his home and kept him there for years. 

The squire had a big heart. He fairly worshiped his 
wife and children, and provided luxuries for them with lavish 
hand. But his irascibility was very mortifying to them. It 
rendered him utterly unreasonable. When angry he cared 
not what he said nor who happened to hear him. He was 
Squire Spencer, if you please, descendent from George John, 
Earl, son of the first Earl Spencer. What did he care for 
the opinions of mere men! 

It was Sunday morning. A few mosquitoes had crept 
into the squire’s room, and had pestered him most of the 
night. He sprang out of bed before sunup, rushed through 
his wife’s room to the bathroom, making no effort to be quiet. 
He filled the bathtub, climbed into it, and began to splash 
and grumble. He declared he was afire all over. The bite 
of a mosquito was very poisonous to him. He now had the 
appearance of having had a recent fight with yellowjackets. 
His face was splotched and swollen. His upper lip was nearly 
twice its natural thickness, and one eye was almost closed. 

When at last the squire emerged from the bathroom, his 
wife lifted herself to her elbow and gave him a searching 
glance: 

‘ ‘ Why, Robert, what’s the matter with your face ? ’ ’ 

‘‘What in thunder is the difference to you what’s the 
matter with it?” he snapped, trying to force his stiff upper 
lip to a more contemptuous curl; not knowing the mosquitoes 
had given it all the curl that could be desired. The grimace 
he made was so ludicrous that Mrs. Spencer drew the sheet 
over her face and fell back convulsed with laughter: 

“Robert, you remind me of that hair-lipped pug pup we 

[6] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

used to have. Do look in the mirror. You’re a fright. I 
told you to put out the light, and not read in your bedroom. 
Why didn’t you listen to me?” 

Mrs. Spencer should have known better than to attempt 
to joke the squire and compare him to a hair-lipped pug pup 
before breakfast — especially on Sunday morning. He was 
usually out of sorts on Sunday morning, and not very placable 
any morning, until he had had two cups of coffee and a good 
breakfast; and that “I told you so. Why didn’t yon listen 
to me?” he would have resented any time of day. 

He sprang at her, snatched the sheet from her face and 
shook her viciously. “Don’t be a fool, Fanny,” he yelled. 
Then he rushed from the room and slammed the door behind 
him. A few minutes later he went down stairs and started 
a tour of reconnoiter around the place. 

“Yondah he come,” exclaimed Aunt Roe, giving Jeff a 
shove, as she saw the squire approaching the kitchen from 
around the house. 

‘ ‘ Git away f ’om huh, boy, an ’ le’m me git dat loaf bread . 
out ’n dat slop bucket! He gwine to poke his nose in dah, 
an’ whaevah he hab no business pokin’ it. He gwine to 
’cuse me th’owin’ mo’ in de slop’n ten niggahs kin tote in 
a bushel baskit. I wishes he’d git de reflamtory rheumatis 
so bad he could’n git his feet to de flo’. Deed I does!” 

Hatless and coatless, scowling and growling, the squire 
went the rounds, declaring that everything was going to rack. 
The servants were a pack of driveling idiots, not worth the 
powder to blow them up. If he had not sprung from a family 
of financiers — and been one himself — he would have been 
bankrupt long ago. He pitched his nasal plaint high for his 
wife’s ear. It had the desired effect — bringing her out of 
bed, and into her dressing gown and slippers in a trice. She 

[ 7 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


could not lie still and listen to such a harangue; for his voice 
cut the air like a steam whistle. 

A tremulous melody was wafted upward from the kitchen. 
Aunt Roe began to sing, to keep from hearing what the squire 
was saying: 

“Roe.’’ he yelled, “you ill-mannerly coon! stop that 
clatter when I’m talking!” 

Looking up, she caught sight of his disfigured visage, 
made doubly hideous by his ill temper. It was well for her 
that he did not see the broad grin which spread over her 
sable features. 

“Fob Lawd sake, Jeff, come huh! Who you reckon done 
hit him? I’s mighty glad, he-he-he-he!” 

After having kindled a spark of Satan in the breast of 
each of the servants, the squire hissed the cat, scolded the 
dog, and wended his way back up stairs. 

“I wishes de reflamtories ’d take him,” declared Aunt 
Roe again, following the squire with her eyes as he went 
around the house; “an’ I wishes Miss Fanny, an’ Mistah 
Harry, an’ Miss Gwin’d all go off somewha’ visitin’ an’ leave 
him huh alone wid me. I shoah would sass him! Deed I 
would! ’ ’ 

“Ya-s,” grinned Jeff. “You wouldn’ do nothin’ de so’t.” 

“What de reason I wouldn’?” 

“Too skeered ub ’im, dat why.” 

“When he got de sho nuff refiamtories, an’ can’t git me?” 

“Can’t git you! yah-ha-ha; can’t git you! He hollah to 
big Tony: Come huh, niggah! bring me dat wench! an’ huh 
come Tony, an’ nab Manny, an’ tote huh ’long to de bed, an’ 
—^he-he-he, an’ Mistah Spencah kotch her by de wool, an’ 
ring huh roun’ a time or two, an’ off come huh head; Now 
what you gwine to do ? Yah-ha-ha! ’ ’ 

[ 8 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Gwone ’way from huh, boy! you ’ain’ talkin’ ’bout no 
reflamtories 1 ’ ’ 

“Mammy clean fohgot, ’bout dat red silk dress what 
Mistah Spencah guve huh fuh Christmas,” continued Jeff. 
“She say she nevah would git mad wid him no mo’. But 
Mammy done fohgot.” 

Aunt Roe turned away with a sheepish look and had no 
more to say. 

When the squire reached the top of the stairs, he turned 
into his wife’s room. He went to a dressing case, pulled out 
a drawer, and began to search through it. 

“Don’t tumble things up so, Mr. Spencer. What are 
you looking for?” 

“A pair of socks that haven’t holes in. If I had a 
wife — ” 

“There are six pairs without any holes,” broke in Mrs. 
Spencer, pointing to the back of a chair. ‘ ‘ They were damp, 
I hung them there to air.” 

The squire looked crestfallen. He began to cough — and 
such a cough 1 It was a reserve force which he usually called 
into requisition under trying circumstances. It was harsh, 
nerve splitting and confusing, as the rasping of a buzz-saw, 
or the braying of a mule, and the more embarrassed he felt, 
the louder and harder he coughed. 

Mrs. Spencer waited patiently for the excruciating par¬ 
oxysm to pass, for she had a religious duty to perform: 

“Robert,” she began, solemnly, as soon as she could be 
heard. “This is God’s day, and you profess to be a Chris¬ 
tian.” 

“Bah! Bah!” 

“You are not prepared to die, Robert! If you won’t 
take time to think about your soul Sundays, when will you?” 

[ 9 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘Bah! Bah!” 

“You 11 have to face your Maker one of these days, 
Robert, or see us die, then you ’ll think, — when it’s too late. ’ ’ 

Two big tears rolled down Mrs. Spencer’s cheeks, at sight 
of which the squire’s falsetto reached its climax: 

‘ ‘ Bah! ! Bah! ! ” he yelled at the top of his voice. 

“Robert Spencer!” 

The squire stood half bent, his chin poked out, glaring 
at her from under his swollen eyelids, and had she not felt 
that her husband was insulting the Most High, she must again 
have been convulsed with laughter. 

Suddenly he snatched a pair of socks from the back of 
the chair, and with a snort, stalked out of the room. 


Gwin Vauce, proud, sensitive, highly idealistic, through 
atavisms from the best old Maryland type, sat in her own 
room, half dressed; her arms thrown across her dressing- 
table, and her head bowed upon them, an unwilling listener to 
all that had just transpired. 

While she had been accustomed to these scenes from her 
earliest recollection they were most distressing to her. She 
felt each time that one more would drive her to desperation. 
For they continually marred the symmetry of her finest 
imagery, which in some vaguely complex crypt of her esoteric 
self she was striving to visualize, vitalize and to hold involiate. 

She was aware that there was but one way out of her 
present environment to which her mother and stepfather 
would agree. That way had stood open to her three months 
ago. But she herself had closed it. Would it open again 
at her request, she wondered? 

With this question in her mind, the girl lifted her head 
and met the face reflected in her dressing-table mirror. The 

[10] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


face was fair and refined, with deep dark-gray eyes, which 
sometimes exhibited a play of opal shades. The mouth was 
sensitive and tender, with full, beautifully arched lips. The 
hand which, a little later, removed the pins from her auburn 
hair, was slim, firm and flexible. 

Gwin brushed her hair vigorously a few minutes. Then 
she entered her bathroom, dampened the brush, and wound 
strand after strand about her finger. Each, when released, 
fell over her white shoulders a perfect curl. When all was 
finished, she tied the shining mass back with a ribbon. 

When she descended to breakfast, she held a letter in 
her hand. 

“Jerry,” she called, as she landed in the lower hall. 

Jerry appeared almost immediately. 

“Hotel Grande, Jerry — Judge A. J. Kahree,” she com¬ 
manded in an undertone, as she gave the boy the letter; for 
he could not read writing. 

“ Yas'm ’, — all right’m ” 

Gwin found Harry and the twins. Bob and Zoe, aged 
seven, in the dining-room. She bent and kissed the children 
as they came to meet her, bowed to Harry, and they silently 
and unconsciously exchanged glances of sympathy. 

Mrs. Spencer soon entered the room, and a little later 
came the squire, Professor Straus, and the children’s gover¬ 
ness. But no one alluded to the squire’s disfigured visage. 

Breakfast at Spencer Place was rather a formal affair 
that morning. No one was in a conversational mood, except 
the twins, who chattered together in undertones. Gwin ate 
little, soon excused herself, and left the room. Harry’s eyes 
followed her; he had observed how little breakfast she ate, 
and somehow he felt anxious. 


CHAPTER II 


BLAZE of splendor met Gwin’s vision that Sabbath 



lx morning as she stepped out upon the porch. Deep 
amber lights and gold reflections glinted through the aspens; 
swathing the flower beds and blooming shrubs with new 
brightness, and hanging each grass blade with jewels. 

In the blue depths of distance were the eternal hills, 
now crested with a rosy flush; between, spreading far to 
the southward, lay the city, its windows and spires alight 
with golden glory. 

She stood awhile leaning against one of the massive 
pillars of the porch, watching the shades change. Presently 
she passed down the steps, and turned toward the park. 
Half way there she wheeled and stood for a while looking 
back at the house, Harry’s house. It looked not only pic¬ 
turesque and stately, but cozy and homelike. Would it be 
the same home to him without her? Would he miss her when 
she was gone, as she would miss him if he should go, and 
she stay? She loved Spencer Place. It was hard to leave it 
and the dear ones. But she was thinking that she might 
soon do it. Her eyes were wet when she turned again. She 
strolled down to the lake, brushing away tears as she went. 

Arriving there, she sat down upon a bench at the water’s 
edge. She had a handful of crackers which she began to 
crush and scatter on the water. Soon scores of fish of all 
sizes were breakfasting. Then came a mud hen, followed by 
a pair of ducks and a dozen ducklings, which frightened the 
fish away. But the triumph of the hen and the ducks was 


[12] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


fleeting; for the swans were swiftly approaching with 
squawking, distended necks, and flapping wings, and the 
smaller birds were glad to escape; while the great oary- 
footed autocrats came up pompously, looking into Gwin’s 
face with greedy eyes. Smilingly, she threw them a handful 
of crushed cracker. After the big birds had picked up the 
last bite and sailed away, Gwin began to study her sur¬ 
roundings again. Her face saddened. “How beautiful!’^ 
she exclaimed, as if viewing the scene for the first time. 
The watery sheet before her scintillated in the sun dazzingly, 
and the closely cropped grass was like velvet. Three hun¬ 
dred yards away the lake was spanned by a pretty iron 
bridge. Three hundred yards beyond the bridge was a white 
boathouse. She could see Harry there now. He stepped into 
a boat, and waved to her. For the first time, she did not 
wish to talk with him. “I could not bear it now,” she 
breathed waving at him. She knew he would soon paddle 
down to where she was; so she rose and hastened up the hill 
to the house. 

Passing around it, she entered the garden. She glanced 
nervously toward the city, now and then; watching each 
carriage anxiously that came from that direction, and heav¬ 
ing a sigh of relief when it had passed by. 

Gwin gathered a handful of flowers and was about to 
return to the house, when a cab came swinging up the drive¬ 
way and stopped. A footman sprang from the box, and 
opened the carriage door. Gwin’s face grew white and 
frightened as she saw a man of distinguished appearance 
leave it and traverse the distance to the house. She waited 
with tense nerves for Jerry’s call, which soon came. 

“Miss Gwin, gen’leman to see you.” 

Jerry met Gwin at the garden gate with a silver tray 

[13] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


upon which lay a card with “A. J. Kahree” engraved upon 
it. 

The girl took it up with trembling fingers and stood 
there a minute gazing at it. 

Three months previous to this, Gwin Vauce had received 
an offer of marriage from the man whose name that card 
bore, which, to the surprise and chagrin of Mrs. Spencer 
and the squire, she declined to accept, because she did not 
love him. 

Judge Kahree was a man of wealth, a leader among men, 
and accustomed to move in the most exclusive circles. 
While he was appropriately modest with it all, and evinced 
a pleasing disregard of ego, he was a little surprised at 
Gwin’s rejection of him. This was his first proffer of mar¬ 
riage. Hitherto, he had tabooed it as not worth the risk. 
But he had a lurking notion that no woman, whom he chose 
to win, could resist him, and a wide experience had 
corroborated this opinion. 

However, the judge possessed a keen eye, which usually 
read accurately, especially from femininity’s page. He had 
passed the age when men are apt to look upon women as 
mysterious. He had come to view them as transparent. But 
there was nothing in his deportment to indicate this, for he 
was remarkably chivalrous. In fact, he was lavish of his 
service of women as any knight of old. In his manner 
toward the fair sex was always an air of veneration. It was 
spontaneous as his breath, and as natural to him. It came 
through the appeal of woman’s physical weakness to his 
sense of protective strength, rather than from a particular 
desire to please. 

Environment had placed him upon the pedestal of a 
plutocrat; but his big warm heart kept him always demo- 

[14] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


cratie. He prided himself on being a man of strict integrity 
— that is, according to conventional codes. He was aware 
that some of those codes are impeached by high opinion. 
But, like most men of his type, his conscience had been 
educated according to the standard of those codes, and his 
sins did not trouble him. He conceded a double standard of 
virtue for men and women and believed it right. Men were 
so constituted that moral purity with them was impossible, 
he claimed. 

Judge Kahree’s first meeting with Gwin was a chance 
one, for only a few minutes, at the home of a mutual friend. 
Although he had exchanged only a few words with her on 
this occasion, he caught a glimpse of a piquant naivete in 
her that pleased him and he determined to see more of her, 
if possible. 

Gwin’s social debut had not yet been made. The time 
was set for the coming winter. 

Judge Kahree was acquainted with Squire Spencer, so 
a broad highway of continuity was soon opened for him 
which he entered with all the nonchalance with which one 
sated with curio seeing would wander into a museum. While 
Gwin Vauce had impressed him as pleasingly unique, in 
some respects, he did not anticipate finding her essentially 
different from others of her sex. 

He began with an occasional visit to Spencer Place >— 
which was a delightful place to visit — and his calls grew 
more and more frequent, until he found himself longing to 
possess sweet Gwin. He seldom had been thwarted in any¬ 
thing of importance; for wealth, physical attractiveness and 
intellectual ability, go a long way toward rendering one’s 
will supreme. So, when he was forced to face a realization 
that he must relinquish hope of winning her, “the bead and 

[15] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


sparkle” went out of his life, and the three subsequent 
months was a period of unrest. But there was something 
in Gwin’s note that caused hope to revive. The missive ran; 

“Spencer Place, July 10, 18—. 

Judge Kahree, 

Dear friend: 

If it is not asking too much, I wish you would 

call at Spencer Place at your earliest convenience. 

I-have something to say to you which I can not 

write. 

Sincerely, 

Gwin Vauce.” 

The judge lost no time in obeying this summons, and 
soon was awaiting her presence in the cool, dim light of the 
drawing-room at Spencer Place. 

She came to him trembling like a culprit. 

“I am prompt, you see,” smiled the judge, as he arose 
to greet her, wondering what her painful embarrassment 
could mean? 

The hot color played over her face and neck in waves 
as she gave him her hand. 

With his accustomed gallant manner, he led her to a 
chair and placed her in it. Then he sat down and waited 
expectantly. 

While drunk with indignation, she had flung a challenge 
at Fate, who had accepted, and now confronted her — not 
as a dim shadow — shape, but a substantial entity, stronger 
than her penitence. How flippantly she had tossed the 
gauntlet when alone with her anger! and now — scarcely an 
hour later — result was demanding his wage, while laughing 
her regrets to scorn. 


[i6] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


What was she to do? What could she say? Judge 
Kahree was waiting for some explanation. She could not 
explain, “Never! — Never!” she thought. 

“You will think — I don’t know what?—” she began, 
her eyelids drooping and her cheeks aflame. “I am going 
to ask you to pardon me for sending that note, and beg you 
not to question me.” 

The judge looked dismayed. He replied calmly; but 
with sinking heart: 

“Do you expect me to submit to this gracefully?” 

She shot him a half-frightened glance; but remained 
silent. 

“This is anything but a trivial matter to me, Gwinnie. 
Haven’t I a right to insist on an explanation, under the 
circumstances? Don’t you think you owe it to me to 
explain?” 

She drew a deep fluttering sigh. 

“ Ye-s, — I reckon so, — but —” 

Again Judge Kahree awaited; — again her eyes lifted 
and met his a moment, then sought the floor. 

“Well!” he persisted, determined to force her to eluci¬ 
date the matter, if possible, “I insist on knowing what you 
meant by that note.” 

Gwin’s hand went to her throat. The lump there was 
making enunciation difficult. It was clear that Judge Kahree 
would not be put off. She realized that an explanation was 
due him. But how to couch it so as to obviate the danger 
of humiliating him or herself was a question. 

“Think me a little fool. Judge; and let it go at that.” 

A wan smile flickered across Gwin’s lips, and she ex¬ 
tended her hand to him. 

“You will not be frank with me, Gwinnie. After bringing 

[17] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


me here, you will not explain why, even when you know 
how much it means to me. You know, too, that I am one 
of your best friends. 

He clasped her proffered hand a moment, then dropped 
it, and straightened hack in his chair. 

“What shall I do?” thought the perplexed girl, whose 
weight of responsibility was too great for immediate reply. 

The judge turned his face to a window and sat looking 

out. 

Gwin’s eyes went to him immediately and looked him 
over — very much as she had looked Spencer Place over, an 
hour ago — as if for the first time. 

But Judge Kahree lost nothing by her scrutiny. He 
was flawless in appearance, even to the eye of a fastidious 
connoisseur. Just the sort of a man a bright girl of fine 
taste would admire. Gwin did admire him — always had. 
It occurred to her now as strange that she did not love him 
in the start. She did not know that she w^as gifted with 
rare acuteness of analytical discrimination; that the sub¬ 
conscious eye of her dual self had “penetrated the shell of 
outer elegance” to a Sybaritic vein in his character; and that 
so long as she remained passive to the influence of this 
mysterious cognition — which we all possess to a greater or 
less degree — it continued to remonstrate with her against 
her heart’s permitting its tendrils to clasp his proffered 
affection. But the occurrences of the morning were so 
obsessing her that she now unconsciously was silencing the 
faithful mystic monitor in her bosom with the voice of the 
grosser adviser — mortal mind. She fell to studying the 
judge with quickened interest, while a sort of new-born 
susceptibleness began to stir her imagination, 

After several minutes silence the judge turned to Gwin. 

[i8] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Well?” His tone was imperative as well as interroga¬ 
tory. “I still insist that you tell me what it was you had to 
say to me that you could not write.” 

It had to be done; there was no escape. Her grip on the 
flowers she held tightened, and she began stammeringly: 

“Has—your—^mind—undergone—any—essential change 
in—in—the last—three months—re—regarding myself?” 

“Yes; one can not live three months unchanged.” 

Gwin gave a little gasp, and he added quickly: 

“But my affection for you has not cooled. The same 
mad love I expressed in this room three months ago, is in my 
heart now. Your message gave me new hope. Am I again 
doomed to disappointment?” 

Without replying, the girl arose, took a vase from a 
mantel, excused herself, stepped into the hall, and filled the 
vase from a water-cooler. 

“I have behaved childishly;” she acknowledged, as she 
returned and placed the vase, with the flowers in it, upon a 
a table. 

The judge held out a hand for one. 

She drew a great dewy rose from the vase and reached 
it toward him. 

The next instant he was upon his feet beside her, with 
the hand that held the rose clasped in both of his and pressed 
to his bosom; his face was beautiful with tender emotion, 
and the girl saw it — saw the beauty of it. 

“Now Gwinnie, what was the secret of that message?” 

“Impulse; but I can’t explain .... Please do not ask 
me to do so!” 

He released her hand, took the rose, thanked her, and 
with deep inhalation, buried his nose among its petals. 

[19] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Impulse?” he repeated. . . “That you might love me, 
after all ? ” 

“I — I — don’t know, I’m not sure.’’ 

Judge Kahree looked into Gwin’s face a moment with 
keen directness. Then he turned again to the wide-spread 
loveliness of the landscape. 

However, the more he thought of it the more he was 
inclined to a cheerful view of the impulse she had mentioned. 

“Well Gwinnie,” he said, at last turning to her with a 
smile, “suppose we drop bygones and begin again. What¬ 
ever prompted the penning of that note, it’s all right with 
me. I love and trust you, as I hope you will love and trust 
me.” 

She opened her lips to reply; but closed them again, 
and stole a glance at his face. His eyes were upon her. 
Her’s fell. 

Judge Kahree proposed a stroll to the park. 

As Gwin and he passed down the shaded walk, Harry, 
who sat upon a balcony reading, marked an unfinished 
sentence with his index finger, while his eyes followed them 
till they disappeared. Then, instead of resuming the inter¬ 
rupted passage, he closed the volume, tossed it to a table, 
and sat for awhile in perplexed rumination. 

What could it mean that Judge Kahree was at Spencer 
Place again? Then Harry remembered having seen Gwin 
give Jerry a letter in the hall as she came to breakfast. 
Could it be possible that the judge was here in response to a 
summons from her? Had she discovered that she loved him, 
after all? Harry was seized with inward trembling. Dear 
Gwinnie, how he had always loved her! and how he was 
beginning to hope that her sweetness was to be his—all his 1 

Judge Kahree and Gwin strolled on to the park, and 

[20] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


sat down near the water upon a bench in the shade. An 
interesting colloquy was soon begun, for the judge was a 
fine conversationalist. As the sun climbed higher — shower¬ 
ing a flood of shimmering gold upon the lake — converse 
grew desultory. Finally, it lost spontaneity entirely, and 
they sat silently watching the oary-footed joy-sailors skim¬ 
ming back and forth over the water. 

Gwin was conscious of supreme content. She never 
before had realized how attractive Judge Kahree was. The 
disparity in their ages, and he being — as she thought — so 
superior to her, in every respect, his first declaration of love 
had come to her as a surprise. She had not thought of him 
as a possible suitor — until he declared himself — and she 
had answered as her heart dictated. 

She now glanced at him and found his gaze fixed and 
far away. She fell to studying him again furtively. He 
sat in a lounging attitude, one arm thrown over the back 
of the bench. The most aesthetic critic could have found 
nothing in his personality to criticise. So it was not difficult 
for Gwin with the large ideality which colored her mental 
conception of manly perfection — of what ought to be — to 
bring him into conformity with her mental picture. She was 
in the halcyon youth-time, the florescent future was dazzling 
her eyes, while behind her was the goading of those trying 
home scenes. Is it any wonder that she experienced a thrill 
of pleasure at the thought that this handsome intellectual 
man was hers for the taking 1 

When a carriage came winding up the hill from toward 
the city, bearing Mrs. Spencer and the twins home from 
Church, the judge arose and glanced at the sun, then at his 
watch. 

“Why, it’s one o’clock, who would have thought it!” 

[21] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


^‘DonT go!” Gwin insisted, as he took up his hat and 
gloves, ‘‘we dine at half past one.” 

“Thank you, I canT stay to-day.” and he hastened to 
his carriage, which was waiting. 

Gwin went to the house, and up to her mother’s room. 
She found Mrs. Spencer removing and putting away her hat 
and gloves. 

“Judge Kahree just left here,” Gwin broke out, “I sent 
for him, in a fit of anger. I don’t know what he thinks of 
such an unheard-of proceeding. But I have given him to 
understand that I will marry him, if I can learn to love him. ’ ’ 

“Learn to love him! — a man like Judge Kahree! I 
can’t understand how any girl with taste could help loving 
him. But, Gwinnie, you are Greek and Latin to me — and 
have been from a baby.” 

“The judge was very considerate and did not question 
me, although he had a right to do so. So I was saved the 
necessity of resorting to prevarication, to preserve the 
family reputation. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Spencer failed to observe the little curve of scorn 
upon her daughter’s lip. “Oh, I hope you would not do 
that!” was her tactless reply, and Gwin’s eyes opened wide 
and blazed with anger. “I am delighted that you and the 
judge have come together again. But you take things here 
at home too seriously. There are few homes more pleasant 
than ours. Nearly all families have their jars. Besides, 
your notions about love are fantastic. You expect too much 
of yourself. I advise you not to cultivate that sickly senti¬ 
ment which poets and mad men rave about.” 

“Mamma! how can you say that after having heard Mrs. 
Snow’s lecture, ‘Love’s white wing’? That was an eye 
opener to me. Her lecture set me to studying. I bought some 

[22] 




BEYOND THE MENACE 

I 

of her books, and I have read them. Knowing what I do 
now, I could never marry without deep, devoted love.” 

‘‘I think young girls are sweeter and better off not to 
know some things, I was sorry I took you to that lecture. It 
was fine, I admit, and true, no doubt, but I did not like you 
to hear such a mess. I had no idea when I took you there 
that she would talk on that subject.” 

Mrs. Spencer was treating this matter as unthinking 
parents usually do. 

‘‘That lecture did not coarsen me,” averred Gwin. 
“Neither did the books which I have since read on the 
subject coarsen me. I now know that marriage of juxtaposi¬ 
tion is a crime, not only against one’s self, but against inno¬ 
cent posterity. That lecture and those books have saved me 
from the crime of marriage without love, to escape the agony 
of scenes like that this morning. So, my dear mother, it’s 
rather too soon for you to begin to count on Judge Kahree 
for your son-in-law. I admire him; whether I shall do more 
remains to be seen. But I can assure you I’ll try.” 

The girl laughed softly — a bitter mocking laugh. 

Dinner was called, and mother and daughter went down 
stairs together. The daughter humming snatches of ist 

Liehef*’ She sang, to keep the tears back. 




[ 23 ] 


CHAPTER III 


T he afternoon was sultry and breezeless. 

Gwin and Harry each took a book and sought a shaded 
spot on the lawn, where a playing fountain stirred and 
freshened the atmosphere. It was a sweet secluded nook, 
where whirring wings, trills, twitters, and laving splashes, 
mingled with the voice of falling water in soothing harmony, 
and where fawns and rodent came to drink. Benches and 
rustic chairs were scattered here and there about the marble 
reservoir. Harry and Gwin sat down and talked awhile, 
then both fell to reading, and read in silence until the after¬ 
noon was far spent. 

At last Gwin closed the volume she was perusing, and 
fixed her gaze to the distant hills. She gave a little start 
when Harry said suddenly: 

“A penny for your thoughts, girlie.” 

‘‘They’re not worth the price, Harry; I hate to beat you 
out of your money. ’ ’ 

“I’ll take the risk.” 

“Oh, well then, I’ve been reading the story of Launcelot 
and Guinevere, and, 0 Harry!” 

“That story’s fabulous, what do you care about it!” 

She did not reply. 

“Gwinnie, what’s the matter with you to-day?” 
“Why?” 

Now, Harry failed to reply. He was regarding her with 
grave eyes. 


[24] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Judge Kahree had come up unobserved in time to hear 
this colloquy. He stood leaning against a tree, a few feet 
away, fanning himself with a palm leaf fan. 

Gwin swallowed twice, to get rid of the lump in her 
throat so she could speak clearly. 

“The conditions suggested in that story are the saddest 
of all things. They are heart-rending! If I talk about it 
any more, I shall cry. ’ ’ 

Gwin lifted her eyes, and they fell full into those of the 
judge. She sprang to her feet, and the book fell from her 
lap. Was it surprise at seeing the judged or was it an expres¬ 
sion she met in his face that startled her? For she was 
startled, and she looked it. 

The judge straightened up, removed his hat, bowed to 
Gwin, and came forward with a hand outstretched to Harry, 
who had risen, to meet him. 

“Good evening. Judge, glad to see you,” said Harry, 
as their palms met. 

“Thank you; the pleasure is reciprocal. I haven’t seen 
you for an age, Harry.” 

“It has been some time; have a seat, sir.” 

The judge accepted the chair Harry proffered, Harry 
sat down upon a bench near; Gwin picked up the fallen 
book, resumed her seat, and they talked awhile. 

Harry soon rose, said goodnight, and left the couple who 
continued to converse for some time. Then, as they had 
done in the morning, they lapsed into silence, as if by tacit 
agreement. The sun grew orange, and sank behind amber 
clouds, the moon and stars came out, casting a silvery sheen 
over two meditative beings, who — to all appearance — were 
oblivious to each other’s presence. 

The spell was broken by Aunt Roe, who came around 

[25] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


the house bearing a small table, followed by Jeff, who bore a 
tray piled with dainties. 

Eoe placed the table between Gwin and the judge, 
spread a white cloth, placed a vase of roses in the center, 
and proceeded to surround it with delicacies from the tray. 
Then she and Jeff lit the lamps at the fountain, and with¬ 
drew. 

“So the Arthurian legend had a depressing effect upon 
you, remarked Judge Kahree, as Gwin poured and handed 
him a glass of iced tea. “A pity it is that so rare a character 
as that of Arthur, of Round Table fame, should be lost to 
history while it abounds with Launcelots.” 

The girl’s eyes opened wide. 

‘ ‘ Rare ! — Are good men so rare ? ’ ’ 

“Those of the King Arthur type are. He was simply 
an ideal; the tale of the Round Table was a dream, fantastic 
as the Excalibur; Guinevere and Launcelot are true to 
nature, however.” 

“W-h-a-t?” Her questioning eyes sought his. 

A debilitated feeling had led the judge to take one glass 
of wine too much just before starting for Spencer Place, 
and that fulsome remark was a result. Keen, cool, debonair, 
not addicted to excessive wine-bibbing, an unequable re¬ 
mark from him was unusual. But the fiendish elfkin which 
now was perched upon his tongue refused to desist. At his 
next remark a starry sparkle flashed up in Gwin’s eyes. 

“Gwinnie, your innocence goads me to turn inconoclast. 
It seems a pity, but you will learn — and that very soon ■— 
that this age is vile as that of Nero; Modernity tractile in 
cults essentially rotten; Supereminence purblind; Chastity, 
passing by on the other side, like the priest and the Levite, 

[ 26 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


merely lifts her delicate eyebrows and sighs resignedly, 
while she assumes an ignorance she does not possess.” 

“Why Judge!” 

She leaned forward for closer scrutiny of his face. 

“You do not mean this? You certainly would not have 
me to believe all that your words imply, — that society is 
utterly debased, and there is no virtue in the world?” 

He laughed, and that laugh expressed bitter cynicism. 

“ Oh no ! ” 

The judge had eaten little; but he placed his napkin 
upon the table, then turned half away and sat silent awhile; 
his fine head and military shoulders silhouetted against the 
pale light of a western sky. 

Perplexity held Gwin inert a few seconds. She looked 
the judge over curiously. What did he mean by talking to 
her in this way? What had come over him? This was so 
unlike him. She broke out a little impetuously: 

“In your sweeping implication you make no exception— 
even of yourself. If what you insinuate is true, our paths 
have reached a point of wide divergence.” 

The judge quickly sensed the havoc the wine was play¬ 
ing. He shifted and faced the girl. 

“Of course, Gwinnie, there are exceptions. Did you 
understand me to say there is none ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, that was the inference I drew; and I think those 
remarks have given me a right, under the circumstances, 
to ask you a personal question: Are you morally pure?” 

Judge Kahree was not prepared for that question. It 
shocked him into sobriety. Again he shifted in his chair, 
and cleared his throat, which suddenly had become dry and 
husky. 

“Am I morally pure? .... Well, Gwinnie, just here 

[^7] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


faith must play a prominent part. If I were immoral, I, 
doubtless, would be base enough to deny it—under existing 
circumstances. Don’t you think I would?” 

“No, I can’t imagine you uttering a falsehood.” 

‘ ‘ Then can you imagine me immoral in other respects ? ’ ’ 

“Judge, you are unfair. You must remember it was 
your own remarks that suggested that question — made it 
imperative, under the circumstances.” 

“My remarks a few minutes ago were absurd — ridicu¬ 
lous. I have not felt well to-day. Just before starting for 
Spencer Place I drank two glasses of wine, it was too much. 
I admit that I invited that question, which, under the cir¬ 
cumstances, was not irrelevant.” 

Deep regret was in Judge Kahree’s heart that he could 
not truthfully answer that question in the affirmative. He 
was a noble man at heart; one who regarded deliberate false¬ 
hood in its true light, and as his brain grew clearer, his reply 
to the punitive query he had so blunderingly elicited from 
that innocent girl, became replete with tremendous responsi¬ 
bility, and was fraught with Rhadamanthine meaning. 
Judge Kahree was a leader among men. His honor was 
considered unimpeachable, his word was seldom — if ever — 
doubted. But now, so incomparably sweet seemed the future 
with that question eliminated that he began to produce a 
few mental arguments against inflexible justice. 

“With this girl to dominate my life, my quiescent 
spiritual fires would rekindle and blaze up; my noblest self 
would be continually called into requisition; and my life set 
in a halo of glory, as it were. Then should I not, in equity 
to my better nature, let matters now take their course? 
Gwin’s nature and mine are in perfect harmony — except 
for this one discrepancy. 


[28] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Young — and sheltered as she has been — how little 
Gwinnie knows of the social status quo! Of temptation; of 
the fiery force which has impelled me to acts for which I now 

stand before a bar of justice.A reverse order has 

come, in which, instead of sitting upon the bench, I am cul¬ 
prit, and this innocent girl, whose deep opal eyes at times 
seem able to penetrate my soul, is my judge/’ 

He began to wonder if he really had sinned. He never 
had thought of it in that light. To his fair judge, it obviously 
was a serious matter — unpardonable. 

Judge Kahree knew there was neither insincerity nor 
prudery in this girl. She was as free from affectation and 
artificiality as a bird, and while he deplored that question, 
he admired the moral fearlessness which made asking it 
possible. He felt as if he had lived several hours of tense 
vital experience, since coming to Spencer Place this evening. 
He now introduced a cheerful topic. 

Gwin’s mind had been insubordinate most of the day. 
Her nerves had run riot and she began to feel exhausted. But 
the low tones of his voice soothed her. A new medley of 
emotions thrilled through her being. Was this the first 
flutter of Love’s white wing in her bosom? She wondered. 
It was a pleasing sensation. 

But the thought of leaving Gwin with the first deliberate 
falsehood he ever had uttered still warm upon his lips was 
obsessing the judge. Conscience declared in favor of im¬ 
mediate relinquishment of her. But his heart was pleading 
against it with all its mad fervor. How like sacrilege it 
seemed to tear down that mystic altar of confidence which 
he felt was a holy thing, and if left unprofaned, would 
dominate every act of his future life for righteousness. Yes, 
he felt sure of it. 


[29] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Converse had lapsed. For several minutes there was 
silence, during which the finest that was in Arrel Kahree 
rose to ascendant and asserted its power of veto. He turned 
suddenly. His face was pale and tense. 

“Little girl,” he began with fixed resolve, “I must 
admit —” 

“Good evening, Gwinnie. Good evening. Judge;” and 
Professor Straus, puffing and blowing, dropped upon the end 
of a bench near them. “What a terribly sultry evening this 
is;” he grumbled. “I went for a short walk, and I’m all 
alather with perspiration. . . I think there’ll be a storm be¬ 
fore morning;” and he mopped his face and neck vigorously 
with a very damp handkerchief. 

Professor Straus had been a member of Squire Spencer’s 
household so many years he seemed to the family quite like 
a relative. 

“How warm and fatigued you are!” Gwin poured and 
carried him a glass of ice water. “Have you been to lunch ?’’ 

“Not yet.” 

“Here, take my place. It is cooler out here;” 
Gwin removed from the table the soiled dishes and napkins. 
“If you gentleman will excuse me about two minutes I will 
bring some clean dishes and a napkin. Mother kindly sent 
our lunch here. As you see, she gave us an over abundant 
supply. ’ ’ 

The professor thankfully accepted Gwin’s proffered 
chair at the table, and she hurried away toward the house. 

A few minutes later as she started to return with some 
dishes in her hands, she ran down a fiight of outside steps, 
which led from the dining-room and tripping, she fell. A 
crash of breaking dishes, and an outcry from Aunt Roe, sent 
the judge and the professor to the house. 


[30] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


They found Gwin lying at the foot of the steps uncon¬ 
scious. 

Judge Kahree lifted her in his arms, carried her to the 
living-room, and placed her upon a couch. While the pro¬ 
fessor — forgetting the heat — ran to his room, and returned 
with a bottle of liquid. Aunt Roe brought a spoon, and the 
professor placed some of the liquid between Gwin’s lips. 

“She swallows all right,” he said, trying to pacify Mrs. 
Spencer, who was weeping and wringing her hands—unable 
to render any assistance. The squire, little cooler, sputtered 
about, running out at one door and in at another, calling 
“Jeff, Dan, Jerry. Someone to bring a doctor.” 

It being Sunday, and a little late now, the servants were 
all away, except Aunt Roe. So Judge Kahree came to the 
rescue: 

“My carriage is waiting down the driveway. I will 
send for a physician. Whom would you prefer?” 

“Thank you. Judge, tell your man to bring the first one 
he finds.” 

By this time Gwin had opened her eyes. 

“My ankle,” she murmured. 

It was not long until a doctor arrived, and the injured 
ankle—which proved to be sprained—was skilfully band¬ 
aged. A blue spot was upon Gwin’s forehead which the 
doctor said would have been fatal had it been a half inch 
lower. 

Harry — who had been floating alone in a canoe on the 
lake, dejectedly pondering this, his first crucial problem, and 
the subtle sarcasm which fate was now flinging in his face — 
appeared upon the threshold of the living room. He paused. 
His eyes opened wide with alarm. 

“What has happened to Gwinnie?” 

[31] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Gwin laughed. 

“Nothing much; don’t be frightened. I sprained my 
ankle a little — that’s all. ’ ’ 

“Good evening Doctor,” and, with a bow to the judge, 
Harry drew near to the couch, bent above it, and stroked 
Gwin’s hair caressingly. 

“How did you come by that bruise so near your 
temple ? ’ ’ 

“Tumbled down the steps. But don’t look so solemn, 
brother. I’m not dead yet.” 

“Why, you poor little girl!” 

Harry turned to get a chair. The judge’s keen eye 
swept his face and saw the love-light there. 

It was late by this time. So Judge Kahree took his 
departure, the family retired and left Gwin and Harry alone 
together. 

Troubled thoughts of her had obsessed him all day, 
he had meant to have a talk with her—ask her some personal 
questions, but for some inexplicable reason he had failed to 
do so. Possibly her strength of counter psychic-suggestion 
had deterred him. He now ventured a remark which was 
calculated to lead up to the subject. 

“This has been a day of extreme trials to you, or I have 
misconstrued 1 ” 

Gwin lifted her hand in a deprecatory gesture which a 
moment later, fluttered softly down to the back of Harry’s 
hand. 

Never had her touch thrilled him as it now did. But a 
strange inertness seized him and he made no further attempt 
to express what he had intended to say. 

Usually, when Gwin’s impulses had carried her where 
her cooler judgment refused to go — as they had that morn- 

132 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


ing — in her regretful after-moments she flew to Harry as a 
sort of father confessor; knowing that even though he ex¬ 
pressed disapproval, she would receive sympathy and wise 
counsel. Her precipitance of the morning was now whis¬ 
pering punitively to her. She wished she could tell Harry 
all about it — it would be such a relief. She always had 
confided everything of any importance to him. But this 
would humiliate them both; for it would necessitate refer¬ 
ence to those unhappy occurrences in the home, and both 
avoided that subject. However, she must have Harry’s 
opinion on another matter if she could manage to broach the 
subject in a way that would appear fortuitous. She began 
to feel drowsy, and her mind was less alert than usual. 
After casting about for a suitable preliminary, she finally 
broke into the subject abruptly. 

‘‘Do you think, Harry, that true marriage is fore¬ 
ordained? Oh, that wasn’t what I wanted to ask! Do you 
think that no love is genuine, except that which recognizes 
its mate at first sight? Or do you think that the affection 
which requires second sight — cultivation, you might say, 
is equally genuine?” 

Harry shot her a keen glance. 

“I don’t know. I never have given the subject much 
thought. But it strikes me that a sentiment which requires 
working up is spurious. ’ ’ 

Gwin lifted her eyes, which looked dark and dreamy 
now, to Harry’s face. He gazed straight into them. 

“What suggested that thought?” 

“Oh-o-o, I happened to think of it, that’s all!” 

“Gwinnie, what are you going to do with Judge 
Kahree?” 

“What am I going to do with him? I don’t know that 

[ 33 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


I’m obliged to do anything with him, I’m not his guardian. 
If you have doubts'of his ability to take care of himself you 
had better consult the probate court;” she laughed banter- 
ingly. 

Harry sat twirling his watch-charm nervously. 

“Are you thinking of marrying the judge, after all?” 

“I — don’t — know; — I — might,’’ she admitted reluc¬ 
tantly. “I joined him on probation this morning. As an 
inducement, I promised to be good.” this with a little forced 
laugh, which grated on Harry’s ear. 

“You are bethrothed?” 

She did not answer for a few seconds. 

“Well, — it may amount to that.” 

“Then you love him; that goes without asking.” 

“It ought to, as well as you know me,” she evaded. 
“Love must go before marriage, with me.” 

It was well that Gwin could not see Harry’s face dis¬ 
tinctly; or rather, it was a pity they did not know each 
other’s hearts at this time of all others. 

The following morning Judge Kahree sent his valet to 
Spencer Place to inquire after Gwin. That evening the 
judge presented his card there in person, and was conducted 
to a south porch where Gwin sat, her hair coiled high upon 
her head, and her bandaged foot propped upon an ottoman. 
The other foot, prettily slippered, was stretched out and was 
wagging nervously. As the judge approached her, her face 
lit up and she extended a hand to him. “How glad I am to 
see you!” 

“Listen! .... That’s Black-devil pawing and squeal¬ 
ing in the stable. I feel like that. To be tied, after nearly 
eighteen years of untrammeled freedom, is excruciating! 
One day of it has exhausted my patience. I never before 


[ 34 ] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 

\ 

was confined to the house a day. No wonder Black-devil 
rages.” 

“Yours is an unusual health record,” the judge opined, 
as he seated himself. “But Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos, 
vote us what they will, and we must take it blindly — as we 
take our mates in marriage. 

“Yes; of course, we are forced to take blindly what the 
Fates send us. But they can’t force us to take our partners 
for life blindly. Can they?” 

“Perhaps not. But we usually do it.” 

There followed another succession of wild snorts and 
impatient squeals from the stables. 

“His voice is expressive, as well as blatant,” the judge 
observed. 

“Yes; poor thing! How he is longing to gallop on the 
plains with his sporty friends 1 He was taken from the herd 
only six months ago. Don’t I know how to pity him though! 
In another day or two I fear I shall be screeching and paw¬ 
ing the air insanely. . . . Did you ever see our Black-devil ? ’ ’ 

“No; I have heard a great deal about him. If you will 
excuse me, I will go and take a look at him now,” and the 
judge rose. 

“I wish you would. Please take him an apple and some 
candy. There on the table behind you are both. ... I wish 
I could go with you. ’ ’ 

“You can. I’ll carry you. I carried you last evening,” 
he informed her, as he turned to the table and put an apple 
and some candy in a pocket of his coat. 

“Oh!” The interjection came with a shrug and a little 
frown. 

He swung round with a smile. “Shall I carry you?” 

“Heavens!” Now the interjection came with a wave of 


[ 35 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


color. “Thank you. I can exist a few hours longer with¬ 
out seeing Black-devil!” 

“Ha-ha-ha,” was the judge’s reply, as he left the porch. 

He soon returned. 

‘ ^ That horse is a magnificent creature ! ’ ’ 

“Do you think I could ride him. Judge?” 

“No!” 

“But I’m going to try it as soon as I’m well. Last evening 
when Papa thought I was about killed, I drew him down 
’and whispered: “May I ride Black-devil when I am well? 
‘That you shall, Gwinniel’ he answered. He has repented 
of that promise before this. But I shall hold him to it.” 

“Gwinnie, promise me that you will not attempt to 
mount that horse unless I am with you.” 

“Certainly, if you wish to witness the exercise. But 
he’s not bad now. They gave him that name before he was 
tamed.” 

“If all reports are true, he’s not tamed.” 

“But all reports are not true,” she defended. 


[36] 


CHAPTER IV 


A FEW weeks later Jerry delivered a second note from 
Gwin to Judge Kahree. 

‘Mudge Kahree, 

“Dear friend:” she Avrote. “I expect to mount Black- 
devil to-morrow morning at eight o’clock. Since you have 
expressed a wish to witness the adventure you are solemnly 
requested to be present. — G. V.” 

Gwin’s ankle was now fully recovered, and she was in 
the best of health and spirits. . 

At eight o’clock the ensuing morning, as Judge Kahree 
Avas riding up the driveway at Spencer Place, Big Tony led 
high-stepping, beautiful Black-devil from the stable toward a 
marble mounting-block, up the steps of which Gwin ran 
nimbly. 

When the horse reached the block, Gwin stood feeding 
him lumps of sugar, stroking his glossy neck, and talking to 
him soothingly, until the judge came up. When, with a blith- 
some “Good morning. Judge,” she took the bridle firmly in 
her hand, and sprang lightly into the saddle, as with a laugh 
she said: 

“Gentlemen, the curtain has risen on the first act. The 
show is on ! ” 

‘ ‘ I hope it may continue to stay on, ’ ’ smiled the judge. 
All the negroes on the place Avere grouped near the stable, 
watching Black-devil and prophesying evil. 

“I nevah spects to see dat chile alive no mo,.” wailed 
Aunt Roe. “Black-devil gwine to kill huh noAV I” 

[37] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Tony still held Black-devil’s bit. 

‘ ‘ Don’t let loose of the bit, Tony, till Judge Kahree takes 
the halter,” called Mrs. Spencer from a second story window. 

The judge lifted his hat to Mrs. Spencer; while a derisive 
little laugh fell from Gwin’s lips. 

Squire Spencer and Harry came up at this juncture. 

“Gwinnie,” the squire broke out fretfully, “as many 
horses as there are in these stables, I can’t see why the deuce 
you want to risk your neck riding this devil?” 

“He’s not a devil, Papa Spencer; he’s all right,” the girl 
defended again. “I can manage him. You consented to my 
riding him — you know you did .... Let loose of that bit, 
Tony! Papa’s fixing to go back on his word; that is clear. 
If we don’t get away from here in one minute, he’ll make 
me dismount.” 

“Father,” put in Harry, “you shouldn’t have consented 
to her riding this horse; he’s not safe.” 

“There you go!” snapped the squire. “If Black-devil 
breaks her neck, I’m to blame!” 

‘ ‘ Tony, obey me! Drop that bit this instant! ’ ’ Gwin 
again commanded. 

The judge reached over and grasped the end of the halter 
and Tony’s hand left the bit. 

Black-devil lifted his head and shook it, as if to make 
sure that one restraining hand was gone. Then, with a bow 
and a gingerly spring into the air, he began a sort of side¬ 
stepping dance. Gwin held the bridle firmly and talked to 
him in a cheery voice; and when Judge Kahree’s horse started 
off. Black-devil pranced along beside him, quite orderly. 

‘ ‘ ‘ There was a young lady from Niger, 

Who went for a ride on a tiger; ’ ” sang a boy across the 

[38] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


street, as the equestrians rode through the driveway gate, 
which Dan was holding open: 

“ ‘They returned from the ride 

"With the lady inside, 

And a smile on the face of the tiger;’ ” shouted the 
boy, as Gwin and the judge rode away laughing. 

The morning was gorgeous. The air was scented with 
blooming fruit trees, sweet wild flower, spicy herbage and 
freshly turned earth; all asprinkle with dew and aquiver with 
springtime’s vital spark. Bob Whites, meadow larks, orioles, 
robins, mocking birds, and cardinal birds, whistled and 
trilled on every hand; while glossy jackdaws cawed the eter¬ 
nal Spring Song from sunbathed stake and limb. 

The two horses galloped along together, their shod feet 
ringing rhythmically on the paved road. They had traveled 
a couple of miles, and Black-devil was behaving beautifully. 
So Gwin suddenly leaned over his neck, and unclasped his 
halter from its ring, leaving the strap in Judge Kahree’s hand. 

“Gwinnie! Gwinnie!” began the judge, protestingly. 

“There’s not a bit of use in your holding this horse,” 
she interrupted. “You have seen for yourself that it is not 
necessary. ’ ’ 

“I’m not at all sure of that,” he demurred. 

“I can manage him/’ she insisted, with a strong accent 
on “him;” as her eyes threw the judge a playful challenge. 

‘ ‘ Obviously, there are others; ” he laughed. ‘ ‘ I am sur¬ 
prised at your management of Squire Spencer.” He held 
out the halter strap; “and here is evidence of your manage¬ 
ment of me.” 

“Uh!” she shrugged, “You and Black-devil together are 
not a circumstance compared to Papa. I know better than 
to attempt to manage him. I got the upper hand in this little 

[39] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


deal, because he was frightened. He’s a scary little fellow 
when one of his family is ill.” 

Gwin had loved Black-devil from her first glimpse of 
him. ‘‘You beautiful fellow!” she chirped, as she now 
stroked his glossy neck. “Judge, this horse has been shame¬ 
fully maligned. He’s wild but not vicious. 

“Gwinnie, let me snap the halter on him again.” 

“Judge, there’s no danger. I am surprised at you.” 

They now came to a Gipsy camp and drew rein to ask for 
a cup of water from a nearby spring. 

As Judge Kahree dropped a coin into the cup, and passed 
it back to the boy who had served them, a tall woman with 
a red scarf wound about her head in a sort of turban stopped 
beside Gwin’s horse: 

‘ ‘ I must tell your fortune. Lady. ’ ’ 

Gwin laughed, removed her glove, and extended her palm, 
for the woman’s inspection. 

“No,” objected the Gipsy, “not in the presence of the 
gentleman. Come with me 1 ” and with long strides, she moved 
away from the judge a few jmrds. 

“Shall I go? — Will you excuse me?” Gwin asked him. 

“Yes, — yes 1” 

“I don’t believe in it at all. I’ll go, just for the novelty,” 
and she rode to the spot where the Gipsy stood awaiting her. 

Presently Judge Kahree saw Gwin’s face flush scarlet. 
She snatched her hand from the Gipsy’s clasp, threw a coin 
at her feet, and turned her horse toward the road. The Judge 
rode after her and soon was beside her. When he jocularly 
questioned her regarding her fortune, she silently shook her 
head, her face again flushed, and her gaiety was gone for 
the day. 

A few minutes later, there came the sharp report of a gun 

[40] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


near by. With a wild leap, Black-devil took the bit between 
his teeth, and was off and out of sight around a curve in the 
road, which led through a body of timber, before Judge 
Kahree scarcely had time to realize what had happened. Pale 
with apprehension, he followed, putting his horse to its 
utmost speed. 

Soon a turn in the road brought Black-devil in sight. 
He was standing by the roadside — the saddle empty. On 
near approach the judge discovered Gwin lying face dowm- 
ward in the grass on the opposite side of the road; her hair 
was disheveled, her hat off and blowing down the road. 

Vaulting from his horse, the judge sprang to her side. 

She immediately lifted herself to her elbows and glanced 
up at him quizzically: “1 told you I could manage him. 
Didn’t I do it? ... . But I was so exhausted, by the time 
he stopped running that I slid from his back; led him to the 
fence; threw the bridle over that post; staggered to the shade, 
and fell down, almost breathless. He didn’t attempt to throw 
me. He was merely trying to escape with his life, poor thing! 
He knows what a shot means.” 

Observing the judge’s pallor, Gwin sprang to her feet, 
and brushed the hair from her face. ‘‘Oh, I am so sorry I 
gave you this fright. It was childish of me to behave so. 
Pardon me, dear friend, I beg of you!” 

The judge’s force of vital resistance was quite exhausted. 
With a long stride forward he reached Gwin’s side. Without 
speaking, he threw both arms about her and crushed her to 
him. Then he released her, went down the road and brought 
her hat to her. 

“We’ll change horses now,” he said. 

“No we wont. If one of us is to be hurt by Black-devil, 

[41] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


it sha’n’t be you. Besides, he knows now that I can manage 
him. I want him to keep that in his mind.” 

‘^Ha-ha-ha,” replied the judge. 

Still laughing, he crossed the road to where Black-devil 
stood, looking demure as a pet calf. After examining the 
saddle girth, he led the horse to a fallen log, where Gwin 
stood waiting. 

They arrived at Spencer Place in time for noon dinner. 

The following morning Judge Kahree stood meditating 
alone before an open window in the lobby of his hotel. While 
his binocular vision rested upon a stretch of green lawn — 
beyond which was a side-walk and a busy street — what he 
really saw was a girl and a man standing beside a country 
road. The man sprang forward and crushed the girl to his 
bosom, and with the rich flame which swept her face, in the 
moment he held her, came a little gasp, and a play of strange 
lights flickered over the gray in her eyes. Judge Kahree’s 
lips were compressed now, and his hands clenched. Suddenly 
he swung around: 

“But oh, I must tell her! — I must tell her the truth, 
and give her up! . . . . Great God 1 ’ ’ 

He rang for a servant, ordered his carriage, and was 
driven to Spencer Place. 

Judge Kahree found Gwin in the park, sitting on the 
grass by the lake, reading “Little Boy Blue,” to a pair of 
profoundly interested auditors — the twins — Bob sat close 
beside her, an arm about her waist, his curly head nestled 
against her bosom; while Zoe, with her chubby arms crossed 
over Gwin’s lap, sat gazing into her face with rapt attention. 

When Gwin saw the judge approaching, she sprang to 
her feet, shook out her skirts, gave the book to Bob to take 
to the house, and while he and Zoe went skipping away, she 

[ 42 ] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


met the judge, and they sat down upon a bench near the 
water’s edge. 

“Did you tell the folks at home that Black-devil ran away 
with you?” 

“No.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t ride him again.” 

“Oh, the danger of that is over. Papa has read the law 
to me, and it’s like that of the Medes and Persians — un¬ 
alterable.” 

Judge Kahree intended his call at Spencer Place that 
morning to be brief. He came to divulge the truth, which, 
of course, would end all between him and Gwin. 

Only those endowed with the finer sensibilities can appre¬ 
ciate Judge Kahree’s position at this time. The grosser sort 
— the common herd — can never be made to understand a 
man who would, for a minute, entertain the thought of vol¬ 
untarily confessing the truth under such circumstances. 

“There is something I wish to” ... . 

“Mo’nin’, Judge,” interrupted a blithsome voice, “scuse 
me, ’ ’ and a little white-robed form darted past Judge Kahree, 
and dropped a great flaming sunflower into Gwin’s lap. “It’s 
the first bloom on my tree. Sister; I want you to have it.” 

The judge reached out, and drew the child to him. He 
talked to her a few minutes, when Bob’s voice was heard 
calling her and she ran away; and upon this trivial happen¬ 
ing was hung a tragedy in two lives. One minute more and 
Judge Kahree would have admitted the truth. When the acme 
of enthusiasm in an arduous duty is reached in failure, pur¬ 
pose is apt to wane to its death. How sad the knowledge that 
fortuitous human destiny may turn upon as slight an issue 
as the tossing of a flower from the hand of a baby! And thus 
the pseudo-ethics of cunning primeval seer and sage is thrown 

[43] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


back upon their sunken graves. The stones cry out against 
them, and our ‘‘Fiery Cloudy Pillar” melts. 

But mayhap some critic will opine that Judge Kahree, 
being a strong character, should have said what he had to 
say, regardless of interruptions. 

Yes: but he didn’t .... 

/ 

It must be remembered that love is one of the strongest 
forces with which men have to contend. While a true answer 
to the punitive question he had blunderingly elicited from 
Gwin became replete with tremendous responsibility at times; 
at other times his mind produced plausible arguments against 
inflexible justice. 

One serene night as Gwin and he stood together upon a 
porch at Spencer Place, he took her hand, drew it through 
his arm and held it as he silently led her down the steps and 
down the long walk to the gate. Several times they traversed 
the distance to the gate and back. 

A mocking bird, swinging on a bough overhead, trilled 
his length of sweetest notes; pausing now and then, to listen 
for his answer, which came anon, from garden and from 
hedge. The soft wind was wooing the flowers, and a cricket 
in the grass was wooing, too. He chirped his love notes shrill 
and clear; an answering message came in notes as clear as his. 

Judge Kahree’s blood was leaping through his pulses 
madly. He paused and turned. Placing a finger under 
Gwin’s chin, he raised her face so that the moon’s rays fell 
full upon it. 

“Gwinnie,” he murmured, while his inscrutable eyes 
burned deep into hers, “I have not said a word to you on 
the subject nearest mj^ heart since that Sabbath morning, two 
months ago, when you told me I might hope. In the sweet- 
scented stillness about us tiny voices are calling and receiving 

[44] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


answers. May I have my answer to-night ? Will you give me 
permission as I leave jmu to carry with me the warm touch 
of those lips — the sign of your pledge to me^^ He paused. 
All was silent, save the twittering voice overhead. 

‘ ‘ Gwinnie, I love you! Will you say, Arrel, I love you ? ’ ’ 
Gwin’s face flushed, and her eyelids quivered under the 
judge’s burning gaze. But somehow she could not utter the 
words he had suggested. Her intense nature was all aglow 
with fascination for this handsome, cultured man, in whom 
her indubitable conception had focused all the perfection 
which belonged to her ideal. 

As she had felt herself drawn to the judge more and 
more, she was careful to conceal the fact, in order to keep him 
in doubt until she was sure of herself. But she could not 
control the language which was speaking in her face now. 
Judge Kahree read his answer, and his fond dream of months 
leaped into reality. 

“It is well, my darling. Mine, at last, and no mistake;” 
he murmured, as his lips met hers. 

On arriving at his hotel, too happy to sleep. Judge 
Kahree sought a moonlit balcony which opened out of his 
room. For awhile he walked back and forth, letting the south 
wind cool his flushed face. He looked up into the midnight 
sky, spangled with myriads of stars, and whispered: — 

“ ‘Were my life to come one heap of troubles 
The pleasure of this moment would suffice 
And sweeten all my griefs with its remembrance.’ 

“Ah, Lee, you knew the taste of this sweet cup when you 
penned those lines;” he smiled, as he lit a cigar, sat down, 
and proceeded to set afloat exquisite castles among blue cir¬ 
cling wreaths. His darling’s pathway should be strewn with 
choicest flowers, her every wish anticipated. 

[45] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


After a long time, drowsiness stole over him. He arose, 
entered his room and retired. He immediately sank into 
repose, from which he was aroused by a feeling that some 
one was in his room. 

As he peered about him he discovered a shadowy form 
with bright brown hair and wistful eyes standing near his 
bedside. 

“How did Gwinnie get into my room?’’ he wondered, 
“and why did she come?” 

She silently glided forward and bent above him, gazing 
down upon him with the expression of one taking a last look 
at a coffined face. The agony in her eyes held him inert 
for awhile. With a mighty effort he broke the spell, sprang 
up, caught her in his arms, and lo! — his arms were full 
of empty air. But he heard a voice rise in a plaintive wail 
and die out in a sob. “God pity you, Arrel, and pity me!” 

The vision was so startling and real that Judge Kahree 
switched on a light, and searched the room, before he could 
persuade himself that Gwin was not there. He slept little 
more that night. “It was only a dream,” he told his dis¬ 
quieted self. 

He arose at daybreak, ordered his horse, and took a canter 
before breakfast; which shook off his nightmare, and he re¬ 
turned with buoyant spirits. 


[46] 


CHAPTER V 


“Oh, had he whispered when his sweetest kiss 
Was warm upon mj mouth in fancied bliss 
He had kissed another woman e’en as this!” 

I T WAS an October noonday; misty vapors, in which were 
blended every tint and color of the rainbow, hung like a 
gauzy veil, over the sun’s bright face. There had been a 
shower, and light clouds were j)iling up to westward in great 
white billows. Rain drops still sparkled on leaf and brier. 
The green moss underneath was studded with scarlet and 
gold — thank offerings from the trees to Mother Earth. 

Awake, 0 South-wind, and bring your sweetest offerings 
from orange grove and spicy forest 1 Come forth, ye 
feathered songsters, and sing your tenderest notes; and if 
you touch the minor strains, they must be pianissimo, for 
this is Gwin’s wedding day. The sacred hour has come. She 
now stands under hanging garlands, arrayed in soft white 
folds of clinging silk, bridal veil, and orange flowers. Her 
hand is clasped by the hand of him she loves, — to whom she 
is dearer than life. Is anything wanting ? Surely this is an 
ideal wedding, judging externally. Every eye in the great 
drawing room at Spencer Place was turned admiringly upon 
the twain now being made one. A finer specimen of hand¬ 
some manhood than the bridegroom it would be hard to find. 
Nor could you find one who would take his vows with a more 
intelligent understanding of their sacred obligations. 

[47] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Languidly the autumn wind, stealing in at an open win¬ 
dow, pushed aside the filmy curtains; rearranged the folds 
of the bridal veil; kissed the orange wreath; and, lifting its 
fragrance to the bridegroom, passed on, and distributed its 
perfume to others. But to the bride, his touch was chill, 
she shuddered as he passed . . . The minister repeated the 
words: “ ‘Until Death You Do Part’.” 

There was a hush in the room, like the hush of death; 
into it fell a firm, deep-toned response — 

“I will.” 

The minister’s voice trembled in the benedictory prayer. 
Somehow he felt as if he were officiating over a white casket, 
where the breath of tuberoses was stifiingly strong. Every 
guest was impressed with deep solemnity. Tears gathered 
in the eyes of some and ‘mingled with congratulations. Why ? 
is a psychological mystery. But the vow was taken, — the 
die was cast, and Gwin Vauce became the wife of Arrel 
Kahree. 

The spirit of gaiety soon took possession of the guests, 
for luxury and beauty were on every hand, inviting it. 
There was profusion of fiowers and music. Beautiful women 
and handsome men, moved here and there through the house 
and grounds. But in the midst of the mellifluous merriment, 
ever and anon, there came floating to the bride’s mental ear, 
‘Until Death!’ The words were wafted to her between the 
tones of laughter and song, like the tolling of a muffled bell: 
‘ Until Death 1 ’ — ‘ Until Death 1 ’ She was very happy. Why 
should these words haunt her? Another psychological mys¬ 
tery. 

A few hours later, Gwin and the judge were bowing and 
waving adieus to friends from an open barouche, as they 

[48] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


were whirled away toward the station, thence by rail to 
Kansas City, Mo., their future home. 

When the happy pair reached Kansas City, they found 
the judge’s carriage, with its liveried driver and footman, 
at the station. 

Judge Kahree’s home was a fine modern structure. The 
grounds were beautiful and perfectly kept. The house was a 
three-story white-stone, with plate-glass windows, and wide 
porches. The interior was exqusite in fresco, fretwork, 
mosaics, statuary, pictures from the hands of old masters, 
oriental rugs and handsome furniture. 

One evening, three months later. Judge Kahree sat in his 
great mahogany-panelled library under a chandelier, looking 
over a daily paper. 

Mrs. Kahree reclined upon a couch with a book in her 
hand. Turning a leaf, her eyes met a page of an unfinished 
letter in her husband’s chirography dated ten years back. It 
was to one of his college chums, and her eyes met a clause 
that shocked her. 

She arose, went to the judge’s side, and placed the sheet 
upon the table before him. 

He glanced over it, changed color, tore it into bits, with¬ 
out comment, and threw it into a waste basket. 

Gwin closed her book, returned to the couch, and threw 
herself back among its cushions. Interlacing her fingers, 
she placed them over her eyes. 

There was a quiver about her mouth which did not 
escape the judge’s eye. He knew that she had caught a 
glimpse of something in his character which did not belong 
to her ideal. Only a few words, written in jest; but some¬ 
times tragedies and revolutions are sequences of only a few 

[49] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


words, and now had begun the dispelling of an illusion which 
meant more to this pair than all the glories of the world. 

Judge Kahree arose, drew his chair to the couch where 
his wife lay; drew her hands from her eyes and held them 
in both of his. 

“You are not taking the foolishness in that letter to 
heart, Gwinnie?” he ventured. “Boys say all sorts of ex¬ 
travagant things to each other whieh mean absolutely noth- 
ing.” 

Gwin looked into his eyes a long minute. 

“Arrel, you are so handsome, so intelligent, so refined, 
so dear to me! Yes; I was disposed to take it seriously; but 
I will not do it. I will forget it; I will believe what you say 
about it.” 

His hands still clasped hers. She drew them to her lips 
and kissed one, then the other. 

There was a “whirlwind of emotion” in Judge Kahree’s 
bosom. How obnoxious to him was double dealing! And 
how distressing to be obliged to deal doubly with one who 
held possession in the “most sacred foldings of his heart.” 

He had drifted along and married Gwin without again 
referring to the question she put to him that Sunday evening 
at Spencer Place. The thought now filled him with inward 
quavers. But he determined to make an ideal road to confi¬ 
dence by a life of purity and truth. But his proposition held 
two quantities for which there was no equation. The sad 
minor note which life’s sweet chord had struck, must con¬ 
tinue to wail through the harmony to the bitter end, and his 
finer self would yet writhe under it as tender flesh writhes 
under the touch of red hot iron. 

Despite the fact that in Gwin’s bosom woman’s devotion 
was crying out with passionate protest against releasing her 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


trust in her husband for an instant; a cold premonitory wave 
was sweeping her spirit, and she felt like one: 

“Who stands in the chill of a winter’s twilight 
And listens for the return of a vanished form. ’ ’ 

Yet she assured herself over and over that he was noble 
and true. The love she had given him — while not entirely 
spontaneous — was not half-hearted. 

Glancing up now, Gwin was startled at something she 
met in Judge Kahree’s face. 

“Arrel, what is it? are you ill? You are pale.” 

“Oh, no!” he answered lightly. “The room seems a 
little close, however.” 

Rising, he turned to a window, threw aside the curtain 
and raised the sash. He stood there awhile — looking out. 

At last Gwin rose, passed into the music-room, and 
seated herself at the piano. Her fingers swept the keys a 
few times. Then she sang “Love’s Old Sweet Song.” 

As she was singing the last verse, the judge came and 
stood beside her. 

When she left the instrument, he turned into the hall, 
took his hat and went out. He was gone an hour, had 
walked continuously, and had not left his own grounds — 
hack and forth, back and forth, trying to still the the tumult 
within. 

The splendor of autumn vanished into a mild winter 
which abounded with social functions, interspersed with 
theater-parties, lectures and grand opera. The judge and 
his wife had been kept in quite a whirl ever since their 
marriage. They had enjoyed the winter immensely. They 
went to Europe in January and had just returned. A June 

[SI] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


evening found their home brilliant with electric lights, 
flowers and guests. 

The judge had a headache — the air indoors oppressed 
him. He stepped through a french window and walked 
along a gallery to where a breeze was blowing. He paused 
near an open window. Just inside, two gentleman stood 
conversing. 

“I wonder how the judge disposed of the fair Joan 
when he married?” queried one. 

“Weaned her with a gift of five thousand dollars. She’s 
a complete wreck. Ten years ago she moved in the best 
circles.” 

“Yes; but Kahree had nothing to do with her downfall; 
I happen to know something about that. She caused his 
moral collapse. When he and Joan met first, he was twenty, 
she sixteen and wise as Satan. She set a trap for him and he 
stumbled into it. ’ ’ 

The judge turned and left the spot. As he reached the 
french window and was about to pass into the house, a lady’s 
skirts brushed his feet, and his wife swept in in front of him. 
She neither spoke nor glanced toward him. A deep flush 
was upon her cheeks, and her lips were pressed together 
firmly. Soon she was the center of a merry group. The 
judge’s eyes followed her with a feeling of uneasiness. He 
saw that she was not herself now. She was usually quiet and 
entertained without apparent effort. But it was evident to 
him that she now was taxing her energy. Her mood was 
brilliant, and frequently a laugh rippled from her lips. Not 
another time during the evening did she glance toward the 
judge. When he managed to get near her, she moved away 
and disappeard among the guests. Finally they stood side 
by side bidding adieu to their friends. When the last one 


[52] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


had departed, Gwin turned and placed a hand upon each of 
the judge’s shoulders: 

‘‘Arrel! my Arrel!” she panted, “tell me that the cruel 
story I overheard to-night is untrue! Tell me you know no 
Joan — never knew one. Oh, tell me this — I implore!” 

Judge Kahree’s face took on a marble hue; but he did 
not reply. 

“0 heaven! he is silent!” she cried, as she sank to a 
chair. ‘ ‘ God pity you, Arrel, and pity me ! I thought I had 
married Arthur, and lo! it is Launcelot!” 

As the peculiar wail, “God pity you, Arrel, and pity 
me! ’ ’ fell upon his ear, the judge remembered his dream. 
The same expression of hopeless agony was in her face now 
that he saw there in his dream. 

“Oh! can it be? Is this my idol that lies crushed in the 
debris at my feet?” 

Gwin bent herself together and moaned despairingly. 

‘ ‘ Gwinnie, hear me! ’ ’ pleaded the judge, taking a step 
toward her. 

“Don’t! oh, don’t!” she interrupted, springing to her 
feet, and putting out a hand restrainingly. “Let’s never 
speak of this again.” 

She hurriedly climbed the stairs, and went to her room. 

This event marked an epoch in the lives of this pair. 
Never again could they be to each other what they had 
been. 

Gwin continued to show her husband the utmost respect, 
and after that night, she never alluded to the matter. But 
while there were neither sighs nor tears, a “pathetic resigna¬ 
tion” was stamped upon her face. Otherwise, she “tri¬ 
umphed outwardly,” and no one ever suspected that any¬ 
thing was wrong. But Judge Kahree knew that it was 

[53] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


seldom out of her mind. Only during sleep and periods of 
extreme business pressure was it out of his. His suffering 
was no less than hers. The knowledge that he had lost the 
confidence of the heart in whose affection every fiber of his 
being seemed rooted and grounded brought sorrow too deep 
for words. If his life henceforth were to yield any “splen¬ 
dor of coloring, or subtility of perfume/’ she must furnish 
the inspiration. 

That he still was a man among men, honored, trusted 
and deferred to, was small consolation. To lose Gwin (and 
he already had lost his best hold) would be to cut loose from 
hope, and despair would settle over him like a pall. A fear 
haunted him that, in spite of all he could do, she might slip 
away from him entirely. The thought that he might yet be 
obliged to stand passive and watch his idol drift out of his 
reach was almost maddening. 

It was near midnight two days after the Kahree recep¬ 
tion. The house was quiet, the servants all asleep. The 
judge sat in the library alone. Above, in her room, with 
the light switched off, Gwin had been sitting for hours be¬ 
fore an open window, gazing out. The light of a full moon 
flooded the room, making her look ghostly in her white 
cashmere dressing-gown. The clock upon the mantle aroused 
her from her lethe when it briskly chimed twelve. She 
arose and began to make preparations to retire. But she 
soon sat down again, forgetting her preparations. After a 
few minutes she sprang to her feet. 

“This will never do; I must bring my will to bear upon 
myself. My idol is gone, — crumbled to dust! ’ ’ 

As if the first realization of it had just burst upon her, 
she threw up both hands, then sank to her knees by the 
window. Folding her arms over the sill, her face fell for- 

[54] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


ward upon them. She had suffered so intensely in the last 
few hours that she was almost prostrated. Things about 
her began to seem unreal. After several minutes of silence 
she moaned:— 

“Can I endure it? — Oh, can I?” 

“Until death!”. . . . 

The mystic answer — voiceless though it was — struck 
her mental ear with heart-piercing poignancy. For it re¬ 
minded her of her solemn obligation to him who, if not the 
embodiment of that which she held most sacred, was her 
wedded husband. 

Ah, Gwin, sorrow’s pruning-knife will not spare you, 
for thus can your life be made to “blossom and send forth 
beauty into waste places.” 

The door of Gwin’s room was pushed softly open, and 
Judge Kahree stood upon the threshold. He contemplated 
the kneeling figure by the window silently a few seconds. 
Then he crossed the room to his wife’s side, lifted her to her 
feet, led her to a chair, and, sitting down, drew her to his 
lap. 

“0 Gwinnie!” he exclaimed, and the anguish of a big 
heart was unmistakably breathed forth. “If you could 
know 1 — if I could make you understand I — if I but could 1 
For, in the sight of God, there are extenuating circumstances. 
But you, Gwinnie, do not know, have never suspected the 
libidinous state of social codes, and their network of temp¬ 
tation. ... As for deceiving you,—it was not premeditated. 
I intended to confess. But I permitted procrastination to 
lead me on until my overmastering love weakened my will. ’ ’ 

“0 Arrel, how I pity you!” 

She lifted her face, and he caught it between his hands 
and kissed her lips. 


[55] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘But, dear heart,” she added, “do you realize that we 
have crossed a line over which it is impossible to return?” 

“Yes;” he admitted, with sinking heart. Not that the 
thought had not occurred to him previously. But to hear 
her suggest it was torture. 

Through all this terrible ordeal, Gwin’s love for the 
judge had not waned. But it had transformed itself. It 
was maternal now. (Do not smile, reader.) This is the 
natural trend of woman’s love. The golden wedding in¬ 
variably finds the affection of the aged wife for her husband 
so transfused with mother love that she can distinguish 
little or no difference between it and that for her sons. 
Time, mellifluently and all unconsciously to her, has carried 
her affection into its natural channel. While in the incipiency 
of the marital relation, a disappointment — a shock — and 
the glamour of romance and passion steals away, like a rosy 
fiush from an evening sky. But, unlike the flush on the sky, 
the to-morrow which may restore it never comes. But, 
happily, sweet mother love may take its place. 

The lives of this pair glided along in this groove two 
years. Their home was a popular resort for the refined and 
intellectual. It was universally believed to be a model home. 
For the judge and his wife — both in public and in private 
— showed each other the utmost deference. 


[56] 


CHAPTER VI 


“O Brackenbury! I have done these things 
That now give evidence against my soul.” 

J UDGE KAHREE was a puzzle to his wife in one respect. 

He was determined that their home should be a childless 
one. He usually was willing to concede almost any point, to 
please her — especially one that compromised her conscience, 
as this did. When the subject was alluded to, he showed 
intensity of feeling, and at last refused to discuss it. He 
was totally unlike himself in this; he assigned no reason, 
except that he preferred not to have children around him. 
To add to the mystery, Gwin saw that he was fond of 
children. 

Although the sun had crossed the equinox, winter’s icy 
fingers still clutched the streams as if reluctant to relinquish 
the rigorous rule he had held five long months. Nature’s 
face wore a dark frown, for her spring-child was a squalling 
brat that caterwauled day and night, and disgraced her 
pretty name. Cold mists hung over Kansas City, and the 
violets and crocuses in the flower-seller’s baskets looked 
pathetic. 

On a rayless night, after a bleak, uproarious day. Judge 
and Mrs. Kahree sat before a bright fire in their library. 

The judge proceeded to cut the leaves of a new 
“Scientific Monthly.” 

Gwin had not been well for several weeks, and somehow 
the sound of the soughing wind depressed her, and a sense 

[ 57 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


of approaching sorrow stole over her. She sat gazing into 
the glowing coals in the open fireplace where hickory logs 
had crumbled and fallen between the great brass andirons in 
a mass of immense golden nuggets, among which gleamed 
cities, fair as jewels and gold could make them. At last she 
turned to the judge. 

“Arrel, I have something to tell you.” 

Judge Kahree looked up and met a flushed face and 
downcast eyes. 

“Well,” he answered, after waiting a minute for her to 
resume. 

But she remained silent and did not look at him. 

“Well,” he repeated, “what is it?” 

She gave him a stealthy glance. 

“I’m afraid to tell you?’’ 

“Afraid? — Of what?” 

“Your anger.” 

“Did you ever see me angry, dear?” 

“Never.” 

“Gwinnie, are you sure you are in a perfectly sane con¬ 
dition ? ” 

She was smiling now. 

He bent toward her and took her hand. 

“Let me feel your pulse.” 

He lifted the hand to his lips. 

“So you are afraid of me? How long since you began 
to feel symptoms of this terror?” 

There was something comical in his face and his ironical 
tone, and Gwin laughed merrily. 

Judge Kahree’s coiuitenance lit up. He had not heard 
her laugh like that for many months. 

[58] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


^^You pique my curiosity/’ he told her. “What is this 
terrible thing you have to relate ? ’ ’ 

He drew her to him, and seated her upon his lap. 

“Now, GWinnie, what is it?” 

“Seriously, I’m afraid to tell you. I know how you 
feel about it, and I am sure it will disappoint and displease 
you. Yet the prospect is so sweet to me. 0 Arrel, if you 
could feel differently; I can not understand it.” 

“The longer you talk, the more I suspect there is some¬ 
thing wrong up here,” smiled the judge, tapping her fore¬ 
head with the magazine. “I haven’t the remotest idea to 
what you are referring.” 

She whispered something which made him look serious, 
but he said nothing. 

“How well he bears it!” she thought. “I’m so glad.” 

She arose and returned to her easy chair. 

The judge opened the magazine again, but, instead of 
reading, he sat looking into the fire. 

At last he tossed the book to a table, arose, went to a 
window, and, drawing the curtain aside, looked out. 

“I think I must see Dr. Ardery to-night, Gwinnie. I 
have a pressing matter of business with him which had 
slipped my mind. It will not require long to transact it. 
But I must attend to it at once. ” 

“Will not to-morrow do? The storm sounds so fierce.” 

“It isn’t as bad as it sounds. I might not be able to see 
him to-morrow.” 

“It’s so dark,” she insisted. 

“The street lights are burning.” 

‘ ‘ But listen 1 it’s raining. ’ ’ 

“A mere sprinkle. I haven’t far to go, you know, and 
I’ll not be out long.” 


[59] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


The judge kissed his wife, and turned into the hall. 

As he was putting on his ulster and rubbers, Harry 
Spencer, who was reading law with him now, came down¬ 
stairs. 

‘‘Why, Judge, you’re not going out?” 

“Yes, a little while. It’s rather an inclement evening, 
isn’t it? I think I can make it, however.” 

The judge took his hat and umbrella, and as a howling 
blast swept into the hall, he passed out. 

The wind came in gusts. The rain felt as if it would 
soon turn to sleet. It was all the judge could do to keep his 
umbrella from turning wrong side out. 

He seemed to be the only pedestrian abroad, except a 
dripping cur, which was hurrying to its kennel. A pair of 
mounted policemen could be seen in the distance, and a 
cab passed him; with these exceptions, the street seemed 
quite deserted. 

After a detour of a few blocks. Judge Kahree ascended 
the steps to a two story brick residence and rang the bell. 
It was answered by a colored boy. 

“Good evening. Bob. Is the doctor in?” 

“Yas, suh, he upstai’s.” 

“Is he alone?” 

“Fus doo’ to de lef’, suh. Yas, suh, he alone.” 

Judge Kahree entered the hall; placed his dripping 
umbrella in the rack; hung up his wet hat and ulster; and, 
after Bob had removed his rubbers for him, he put some 
silver in the boy’s hand; mounted the stairs, and knocked at 
the first door to the left. 

It was opened by a tall, faultlessly attired man, with a 
brown Van Dyke beard, very smooth, fair skin, and delicate 
hands. 


[6o] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Why, hello, Judge,” he cried, clasping Judge Kahree’s 
hand. “Are you abroad this stormy night? Come in, I’m 
glad to see you.” 

Judge Kahree passed into the room, and the doctor 
closed the door. 


[6i] 


CHAPTER VII 


IME evolved midwinter and found Mrs. Kahree busy 



I embroidering delicate patterns upon white materials of 
finest texture. Frequently she sang as she wrought, for she 
was dreaming of her prospective joy. 

A day came when Dr. Ardery was summoned to attend 
Mrs. Kahree. He remained with her many hours, and his 
face took on an expression of deep concern. 

The judge looked ghastly. He paced the floor inces¬ 
santly, and dark circles were about his eyes. 

“Heavens, Ardery! how is this going to end? don’t let 


her die!” 


“Judge, I will do my utmost; God knows what the 
result will be, but whatever it is, you must be brave and 
bear it.” 

“Be brave and bear it? Great God! I couldn’t bear 
seeing her die in this way. It will bear me to a mad-house.” 

The judge went to the bedside, and bent over his wife, 
who was unconscious. 

‘ ‘ Save her, Ardery! 0 save her! and take every dollar 
I possess!” 

“You had better call on a Higher Power, for, to tell you 
the truth, I have about exhausted my skill.” 

Gwin had a strong constitution. The crisis passed, she 
regained consciousness, opened her eyes and looked into the 
eyes of her husband. Then she pressed a kiss upon the warm 
lips of her newborn son who ceased to breathe in an hour. 

For many days Mrs. Kahree hovered between life and 


[62] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


death. The judge hung over her like a fond mother over a 
sick babe, and was untiring in his attentions. Watching him 
through her half-closed eyes, as he came to her bedside so 
often and bent above her with such tender solicitude, her 
heart received a new baptism of pity. 

“He has been sinned against as well as sinning,” she 
told herself. “I have forgiven him but I must try to forget 
and take him back into my confidence. For such devotion 
would touch a heart of stone. Poor Arrel! how he has 
suffered! his face shows it. He has repented of his sins, in 
sack-cloth and ashes; I feel that I can trust him now; and 
when I remember my own sins — my temper, how I fought 
it, and how it overcame me again and again, it helps me to 
have more charity for other people’s weaknesses.” 

Woman-like, Gwin was trying to cover the sins of him 
she loved with her own shortcomings. 

The next time Judge Kahree bent over his wife she put 
both arms about his neck, drew him down and kissed him. 

‘ ‘ Arrel dear, the past shall be buried now; we will begin 
anew. I love you, Arrel dear. From henceforth, I will trust 
you, for I believe you are worthy.” 

The emotions which passed through Judge Kahree’s mind 
in the subsequent few minutes are indescribable. But as the 
sweet cup pressed his lips the taste of gall was in it and its 
dregs were at the bottom. 

‘ ‘ I deserve it all, Gwinnie; I have but one excuse to offer 
— this overmastering love. But, 0 my darling! If you can 
but trust me again — if you can!” 

Who does not pity this man whose great tender heart is 
thus environed by transverse forces — now too strong for 
his control 1 The Nemesis is pursuing him, step by step, and 
as surely as the relentless bloodhound tracking his victim to 

[63] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


the jungle, runs him down at last, so surely will Nemesis 
overtake the judge and require his heart’s blood. While the 
^‘unreasoning credence” we call hope was in his bosom, that 
“authoritative oracle” — conscience — was there also. 

But let us have a care, reader, as to how we judge this 

\ 

man. He and his wife are victims of social codes which we 
have helped to establish by condoning vice. When the law 
of compensation overtakes us with misery and disgrace to our 
dear ones — which it surely will — let us not cry out with 
uplifted hands: “What have I done that God should visit 
this upon me and mine! ’ ’ 


Another month went by. The green earth was sending 
up sweet incense. The streams had burst their icy fetters, 
and leaped with delight as they joined freedom’s song with 
bird and bee. 

Gwin sat in her room, watching the sunlight steal in 
at the windows and creep over the lilies-of-the-valley and 
the moss-roses at her feet, lending brilliance to her delicately 
tinted rugs. 

The little clock upon the mantel struck five. 

The judge appeared almost immediately. He greeted his 
wife affectionately, and, sitting down, had conversed a few 
minutes, when the doorbell rang. He arose and excused 
himself. 

“That’s Ardery. I brought him out to dinner; but he 
stopped a block away, to see a patient. His wife and daughter 
started for Europe to-day, — he looks pathetic, poor fellow!” 

The judge withdrew. 

Gwin glanced at the clock — a quarter past five. 

“I feel so well this evening I have a mind to dress and 

[64] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


go down to dinner: It will be a nice surprise for Arrel and 
Harry — and the doctor, too.” 

She arose, crossed the room to a mirror, and drew the 
pins from her hair. Then she rang for a maid, who soon 
appeared and assisted her to dress and descend the stairs, 
declaring as she did so: 

“Ah ma’am! indade you are a mere shadow of your 
swate silf. Three wakes ago I niver thought to be iver hilpin 
yez down the stars iny more. Sure an’ fate furrust I ixpicted 
to see yez cornin’ down; the judge followin’ th’ while, all 
decorated ’ith crape. It was a sorrowin’ time we had here 
for awhile: Mr. Harry pacin ’ the flure in the lib ’ry, and the 
judge pacin’ the flure in the hall above. Naither of ’em atein’ 
sufficient to kape a mouse alive, a’tall. It’s mesilf was sorrj^ 
for ’em, the darlints! ’ ’ and Mrs. Conner left the ‘ ‘ swate 
shadow” standing behind her chair at the head of the table 
in the dining-room, and the butler announced dinner. 

The gentlemen were quite surprised to see Gwin down¬ 
stairs. Harry sprang forward and caught her hand. 

“Why, Sister, I am delighted!” 

“Thank you, my good brother, I am delighted, too. I 
know now how to appreciate freedom after prison life.” 

Doctor Ardery and Mrs. Kahree exchanged warm greet¬ 
ings. 

The judge silently passed to her side, put an arm about 
her, drew her to him and held her close for a moment. Little 
did he think that this was the last time he was ever to embrace 
his wife. Never this side the mystic river were his fond 
lips to touch hers again. 

That dinner was one long to be remembered by two of 
the party. They lingered with sparkling colloquy over the 

[65] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


dessert and coffee, and the doctor forgot his lonesomeness 
awhile. 

Finally, the judge said anxiously: 

“Mrs. Kahree, I fear you are overtaxing your strength. 
Shall we adjourn to the library — where you may have an 
easy chair?” 

All arose, and soon were ensconced in the library. 

Harry begged to be excused. 

“I’m sorry to leave such delightful company,” he said, 
comparing his watch with the clock, “but I have an engage¬ 
ment for eight o’clock. I have loitered too long already.” 

So he hurriedly bid them good night, and went out. 

“Judge, let’s take a short walk and a smoke before we 
settle down for the evening,” suggested the doctor. “That 
is, if Mrs. Kahree will excuse us.” 

“I was about to propose that we repair to my den for 
a smoke,” replied the judge. 

“No;” objected the doctor, “I prefer the open air, after 
dinner. But Mrs. Kahree hasn’t given us her permission.” 

“If your smoking depends upon my permission, I will 
forever withhold it, ’ ’ she laughed, with the old roguish expres¬ 
sion in her eyes. 

“Not to smoke, to go,” amended the doctor. “But I 
can’t believe that you would be so cruel, in view of the fact 
that men’s appetites are a bequest from our mother Eve.” 

“That everlasting apple again! You are obviously a 
true son of Adam, Doctor Ardery.” 

The two men smilingly bowed themselves out. 

A feeling of depression settled over Mrs. Kahree at once. 
She felt as she had the last evening she spent in this room. 
Was it presentiment — the shadow of approaching calamity? 
or was it owing to physical debility together with the memory 

[66] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


of that half-tasted evanescent joy,” which so often struck 
her heart with a pang ? The future seemed to loom up before 
her like a stone wall. She felt faint and weary. She rose, 
^oing into an adjoining room, threw herself upon a 
couch and was soon asleep. 

Before long her slumbers were broken by a murmur of 
voices in the library. The door stood ajar. Although the con¬ 
versation was in an undertone, every word struck her ear 
distinctly. For awhile she listened in a half-somnolent state. 
She recognized the voice of Doctor Ardery as the first speaker: 
His remarks, though brief, were clearly enlightening. He 
finished with .... ‘‘That baby of yours was a splendidly 
developed child. But, Judge, he was blind.” 

‘ ‘ Great God! ’ ’ The voice that answered was hoarse and 
unnatural. 

Gwin was wide awake now. She raised herself to her 
elbow, gasped, and, for the first time in her life, fell back 
fainting. 

When she recovered consciousness, all was silent in the 
library. But she heard the doctor and the judge bidding 
each other good night in the hall. Clasping her hands over 
her heart, which felt as if it were breaking, her pallid lips 
breathed: 

“0 God, let me die!” 

Then she lay tense to the point of madness. 

The seeming paradox in her husband’s aversion to her 
bearing children, while his passionate love of them was un¬ 
mistakably ostensible, was clear now. She also understood 
the object of his visit to Doctor Ardery’s office that bleak 
night after she had disclosed her secret to him. 

Judge Kahree and Doctor Ardery, having returned from 
their walk, and finding Mrs. Kahree not in the library, had 

[67] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


taken it for granted that fatigue had sent her to her room for 
the night. On going there, after the doctor’s departure, and 
not finding her, the judge hastened back downstairs in search 
of her. At first glimpse of her he started back, for she looked 
like a corpse. Then he sprang forward and bent to raise 
her up. She opened her eyes and waved him back. 

‘ ‘ Don’t touch me, please! ’ ’ 

“Darling, you are very ill.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, no; I am dead! ’ ’ she gasped. ‘ ‘ I have lost all! — 
Let the curtain fall! — The play is over!” 

She paused, panting for breath. 

“A little more than two years ago,” she resumed, “I 
stood before the altar and vowed to love, honor and obey 
you until death should separate us. This night I heard your 
lips confess to that which has made it impossible for me longer 
to render obedience to your wishes. 

“Gwinnie, you do not mean — you can not mean that 
you are about to abandon me ? Tell me any thing but this 1 — 
any thing but that you have ceased to love me! A felon’s 
cell is nothing compared with losing you. I would rather go 
to Hell with you than to Heaven without you! ’ ’ 

“What can I do, Arrel? You have rendered me power¬ 
less by placing an impassable gulf between us and you have 
crushed confidence from my heart. I can no more pick up 
and replace the broken petals of my affection than I could 
restore in freshness and fragrance upon yonder bush a rose 
your heel had crushed. The sweet dream is over. We now 
must face bleak realities which once seemed impossible to us. 
Prom this hour — oh, can it be ? — can it be ? — from this 
hour our paths diverge! ’ ’ 

Again Gwin gasped and lost consciousness. The ordeal 
was terrible to her in her weakened condition. 


[68] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


She revived almost immediately and sat up. As soon as 
she felt able to walk, she arose to leave the room. 

‘‘You are not strong enough to go alone; let me assist 
you,’^ and the judge, took a step toward her. 

Again she waved him back. 

‘ ‘ Do not touch me, I beg of you! ’ ’ 

“Then promise me, before you go, that you will remain 
under this roof.’’ 

“If you wish me to continue to be your wife in the eyes 
of the world, for your sake, I will do it. But your marital 
obligation to me here and now is annulled. All is over be- 
tw^een us; all that rendered the marriage relation sweet and 
sacred is gone. But I will be true to my vow, and if you will 
feel better satisfied to have me in your home, I will remain 
and play the farce of being your wife! ’ ’ 

The judge stood there looking like a marble statue of 
himself. The proposition staggered him. 

“Nothing remains to us then — but — but memory!” 
His voice was faint with suppressed emotion. 

“That is all. Arrel.” 

After steadying herself a few seconds, Mrs. Kahree 
turned to leave the room. As she passed the judge she caught 
his hand between both of hers. 

‘ ‘ God shield thee, helpless one! .... Good night, ’ ’ she 
breathed, with a gush of tears. 

He attempted to catch her in his arms; but she slipped 
from his grasp, leaving in his hands a light shawl, which had 
been about her shoulders. She paused at the door and looked 
back. 

“If I am to remain under this roof, Arrel, you must not 
attempt to take me in your arms again. You and I are friends 
now, nothing more.” 


[ 69 ] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


The judge stood gazing after his wife in silence a few 
moments. Then he sat down before the fire, and sat there 
until the last coal had turned to ashes on the hearth. His 
anguish was sufficiently keen to drive a weaker man to suicide, 
but no such thought entered his mind. Like Gwin, he meant 
to endure bravely to the end. 

The night wore on while an array of moving pictures 
passed before Judge Kahree’s mental vision. Some filled him 
with shame and remorse. But those in which Gwin figured, 
breathed to his spirit a mystic language, sweet and tender. 

He recalled that fair night at Spencer Place, when a cres¬ 
cent of silver hung low in the western sky, and the mocking 
bird trilled his love song, and the cricket chirped his. When 
the tender light, the suggestive stillness, and the enamoring 
presence beside him, had set his pulses to leaping, and he had 
held her face up to the moon’s rays, and in the quivering 
lips and fluttering sigh, read that which glorified Earth to 
him and made of it a paradise. 

He recalled, also, the dream of the same never-to-be-for¬ 
gotten night when he sought to clasp in his arms the woman 
he loved — and found only empty air. 

‘ ‘ 0 God! ” he whispered, turning his face upward. ^ ‘ Can 
it be that all is over, and I must drag out an existence without 
her?” 

Beads stood upon his forehead, and his great heart seemed 
to be breaking. He rose and paced the floor until the gray 
dawn began to steal into the room; then, exhausted, he fell 
upon a couch and sank into heavy slumber from which he 
was aroused by a call to breakfast. He opened his eyes and 
looked about him and his great sorrow met and fell over him 
like a pall. 

Gwin had been obliged to resort to a sedative. There 

[70] 


/ 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

would have been no sleep for her without it. In her weakened 
condition and present high state of nervous tension, she knew 
that a sleepless night might prove a dangerous experiment. 

She rested well, and the sunlight falling across her face, 
awoke her. But a load seemed to rest upon her heart, — what 
was it ? — what had happened ? 

It was several seconds before she could collect her scat¬ 
tered senses sufficiently to recall the events of the preceding 
evening. Suddenly all rushed over her with a stifling sen¬ 
sation. She sprang to a sitting posture, and put her fingers 
to her temples. Then, quivering and throbbing with pain, 
she lay back upon the pillow, and closed her eyes despairingly. 

Her mind went longingly backward to the days of love 
and trust when it seemed that her life’s pathway had 
broadened to an avenue leading through gardens of beauty. 
But the avenue had narrowed to a weed-tangled path, where, 
before an insurmountable barrier, lay a little heap of ashes, — 
all that was left of her radiant hopes. 

That early morning struggle was terrible. The man she 
loved had been stripped of the fine garments with which her 
imagination had clothed him. But the bond which held her 
to him had not fallen away — he was her husband still. Death 
recently refused to claim her, after beckoning her. There was 
nothing to live for; but she must live. However, her mind 
was too chaotic now to put things logically to itself. It was 
as if she had just awakened from a nightmare and the numb¬ 
ness was still clutching her. 

On attempting to rise, she found herself very weak. But, 
being gifted with strong determination, she got up, took a 
cold plunge in her bathtub, and was so invigorated that she 
was able to dress herself with her usual pains, and descend to 
breakfast. 


[71] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


When Judge Kahree entered the dining room, he found 
his wife standing before an open window, drinking long 
respirations of ozone, while Harry read to her from a morn¬ 
ing paper. 

It was one of those invigorating spring mornings which 
seem to give one a new lease on life. The windows were all 
open, a breath of sweet leafmold was in the room, and in the 
trees without was a choir of chirruping songsters. 

When Gwin heard Judge Kahree’s step, she turned with 
a bow and a smile, and took her accustomed place at the table. 

She was determined not to let Harry see that any thing 
was wrong. He should never know from her that the judge 
had a fault. No one should know. 

The most sacred of all vows is that of marriage. Here 
was a woman who realized this; who felt that to recite to 
another the faults of him she had vowed at the nuptial altar 
to honor, until death, would mean desecration of that which 
is holy. 

As her eyes met the handsome dark orbs of her husband, 
which were full of tenderest regard, a pang shot through her 
bosom which, to her surprise, assured her that love still lived 
and breathed there. 

Language is too tame to portray the emotions of this 
petted man of the world, who, hitherto, had been accustomed 
to having things come his way, who now felt impoverished, 
utterly ruined in all that would tend to make life sweet. 
Master of more thousands than he knew how to spend, yet 
unable to purchase the one thing needful to his happiness •— 
the confidence of the woman sitting opposite him. He would 
willingly give up every dollar he possessed, go forth homeless, 
and feel that he was rich, if her trust in him could be restored. 

Gwin poured the coffee, and made a mighty effort to 

[7^] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


appear natural in Harry presence. Excitement had brought 
a tinge of pink to her cheeks which he observed, and he told 
her how well she was looking — that she had improved since 
last evening. But the judge understood; his heart ached for 
her. He envied the bunch of sweet violets which nestled 
under her chin, and he wished for one, because it had touched 
the flesh that was so dear to him. 

Unsuspecting Harry was in a jolly mood. He had a letter 
from his father, which he read aloud with one enclosed to 
Gwin from Zoe which she read aloud. Harry had some pleas¬ 
ant down-town news to relate, with an amusing incident, and 
the breakfast hour passed without anything unusual becoming 
apparent. 

This pair drifted along side by side — each heart bear¬ 
ing its anguish silently — each full of sympathy for the other. 
They entertained together, attended social functions and 
church together; spent evenings at home alone together; read 
and sang to each other; and through it all, the terrible thing 
which had made and was widening the gulf between them 
never was alluded to. 


[73] 


CHAPTER VIII 


S EVEN years had flown since the October noonday which 
had lent its jewels to the nuptial celebration of Gwin 
Vauce and Judge A. J. Kahree. Their anniversary dawned 
clear, with a hint of crispness in the air. A thin curtain of 
smoke was draped low on the eastern horizon which painted 
the sun’s face a deep crimson as he rose over Kansas City; 
and thousands of windows and spires responded with blaz¬ 
ing splendor, as if a mighty army had risen, to greet an 
approaching monarch with his own colors. 

Harry Spencer had gone back to Georgia, and was 

practicing law in the city of A-. 

The judge and Gwin were alone. As they sat down to 
breakfast their thoughts were similar. Both remembered 
the date, and with sad hearts recalled their transient felicity. 
After the exchange of a few commonplace remarks they ate 
in silence. Twice during the meal their eyes met; each met 
an expression that reacted in tender sympathy for the other. 

With passing years, the maternal love in Gwin’s starv¬ 
ing motherheart had strengthened; she gave Judge Kahree 
all the devoted solicitude she would have bestowed upon her 
children. She was as careful of him as if he were a baby. 
In her heart of hearts he was her erring son. But she did not 
suspect it, nor did he. In her bosom, was that tender mother 
pity which kept her striving to make up to him, as far as 
possible, for the suffering brought upon him by his misdeeds. 

He realized that she still loved him. But her supereroga¬ 
tion on the one hand, and her cold aloofness on the other 

[74] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 

hand acted as a sort of jostle to his mental equipoise; it 
was beginning to tell on his nerves, too, and hope of a 
closer relationship was now over. 

After breakfast, Gwin went to the library; the judge 
followed her. 

She was standing before the grate. 

He went to her side and would have placed an arm 
about her but she took a step away. 

“You will not permit one embrace?” he said sadly. 

‘ ‘ Why, Arrel! ’ ’ 

“I know,” he replied apologetically. “But I came here 
to have a talk with you, Gwinnie, — a last one, perhaps. I 
have decided to go away. It grieves me to go, and I think 
my going will grieve you. For I realize that you have loved 
me through all.” 

Gwin gulped and could not speak at once. “Oh, yes; 
Arrel;” her voice was unsteady, “if I had loved you less, I 
should have sorrowed less.” 

There was deep emotion in Judge Kahree’s face. He 
was standing beside a bookcase — with an arm resting upon 
it. 

After several seconds he spoke in a level voice. 

“I have been deliberating a long time upon this step. I 
have decided that separation will be better for both of us. 
Together, there is no surcease from pain. Separated, our 
wounds will not be chafed, at least. It is my great love for 
you that is driving me away from you, I simply can not 
endure this sort of life any longer. It has required all the 
strength I was master of to reach this decision. But for 
years you have been enduring a sort of slavery. I shall set 
you free, now. ’ ’ 


[75] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘No! No! Arrel,” she cried out. “I haven’t felt it so, 
at all! You are not thinking of a divorce?” 

“Not unless you wish one. But in three days I shall 
start for a tour of the old world, hoping thus to he able to 
blot from my heart the only image ever enshrined there.” 

She did not speak, she felt that she could not articulate. 

“There will be a bank account here at your disposal. 
I wish you to remain in the home, retain the servants and 
strive to forget the past.” 

But Gwin already had decided upon the course she 
would pursue, if he left her. 

“Do not think that I look upon our marriage as a 
failure, Gwinnie! It has been hard on you — but I am a 
better man for having met and loved you. I shall carry 
always a great sorrow in my heart. But I shall carry memo¬ 
ries, also, which will help me to resist temptation.” 

“0 Arrel!” she cried out, and her face was full of 
suffering, “don’t leave me! don’t! I shall be so lonely with¬ 
out you! ’ ’ 

She caught his hand in both of hers and held it close. 

“Don’t call it slavery that I stay in your home and do 
what I can conscientiously, to make life endurable to you. 
It gives me pleasure — indeed it does! Don’t leave your 
home! Oh, don’t!” 

The judge’s agitation was so great that he could endure 
no more of this. He gently drew his hand from her clasp 
and hurried from the room and the house, wiping tears as 
he went. 

When Gwin heard the street door close behind him, she 
realized that her life with Judge Kahree was forever at an 
end. She threw herself upon a couch with a feeling of 
abject desolation. It was as if he now lay dead before her. 

[76] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


She closed her eyes, to see if she could remember his features 
perfectly. Yes; and his dear eyes were full of the old tender¬ 
ness. A piteous moan escaped her lips. 

“Arrel! Arrel! I shall never look into your dear face 
again ! never! oh, never! ’ ^ 

For a while she lay still and almost as white as she was 
that night when she overheard his confession. But anon her 
calmer judgment came to the rescue, and while the thought 
of separation and a broken home was excruciating, her mind 
adduced reasons in favor of it which she was forced to admit. 

She never before realized fully what the life of the last 
seven years had meant to Judge Kahree. Proud spirited as 
he was, and passionately in love with her, how complete was 
his humiliation and how intense must have been his suffer¬ 
ing ! She had thought that she knew just how to pity him. 

“But oh, I didn’t! I couldn’t realize it. Poor Arrel! 
Poor Arrel!” 

She rose to leave the room. 

“Good bye, beautiful home, I must leave you!” 

At the door she paused, looked back, and tears rushed 
to her eyes. 

After a minute, she passed into the music room. Going 
to the piano, she lay a hand lovingly upon it — as if it were 
a living thing. 

“Farewell,” she whispered hoarsely — “never again!” 

Gwin felt very much as one would feel who is conscious 
of having reached his last day in this life. She passed on 
from room to room, recalling memories — some sweet, some 
sad. 

When she reached the drawing-room, she turned to a 
window and stood awhile gazing out. Great trees, while 
reaching out strong arms protectingly to the house, to ward 

[77] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


off rough winds, swayed and touched the roof softly — as 
if to caress it. Yellow leaves were drifting slowly down to 
the green sward, while rich autumn flowers, effulgent with 
golden sunshine, variegated the wide lawn. 

“Farewell, dear home!’’ breathed the desolate young 
wife, “a long farewell! Tenderly have you sheltered me, 
while I dreamed life’s sweetest dream, learned its saddest 
lesson, and died its bitterest death. 0 heart of mine, are 
you breaking? Shall you ever feel another throb of joy? 
ever again beat responsive to child’s laugh or bird’s song?” 

Finally Gwin turned, and her eyes wandered about the 
beautiful room. On every hand were handsome gifts from 
him whose love had never waned. Here was a costly pic¬ 
ture; there, a work of art in statuary; upon the mantel, a 
vase worth its weight in gold. Upstairs, in her jewel case, 
there gleamed and flashed a fortune. But what was all this, 
under the circumstances! It is true, it spoke of an indul¬ 
gent husband’s love. But >this only helped to break her 
heart. If he had been cold and neglectful, the task before 
her would not have been so hard. 

At last Gwin reached her own room. As she entered, a 
pair of handsome pleading eyes met hers from a portrait 
upon the wall. 

“Arrel!” she gasped “Oh, I can not go! — I can not 
give you up!—^You must not leave me! No, no, I will not 
let you go! I will plead with you to stay — plead on my 
knees!” 

She sat down a few minutes, flushed and irresolute. 

Presently, her lips set themselves together flrmly, and 
she rose to her feet. 

Avoiding another glance at the picture, she drew a 
trunk from a closet, opened it, and, selecting her plainest 

[78] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


articles of clothing from her wardrobe and the drawers of 
her dressing-case, she packed them in the trunk, then she 
locked and strapped it. 

Putting some toilet articles into a small satchel, she 
changed her dress for a brown serge, after which she knelt 
and asked God’s protecting care over him she was about to 
leave forever, and over herself. 

Rising from her knees, she took a purse from a drawer 
and counted the contents. 

Then she rang for Mrs. Conner, who came at once. 

“Tell Jones I wish a trunk taken to the Union Station 
as soon as possible, and tell him to have the carriage ready 
for me at eleven o’clock!” 

The maid glanced back curiously as she turned, after 
receiving the order. She saw that Mrs. Kahree had been 
weeping. She never before had seen traces of tears upon 
Gwin’s face. 

“I wonder phwat is ailin’ the darlint? Sure an’ she’s 
been gittin’ bad news!” 

Gwin closed the door. Then she sat down at an escri* 
toire and penned the following; 

“Dear Arrel: 

“Did you think that I could remain sheltered 
in your home while you were driven into foreign 
lands, to escape me? But this is like you — so un¬ 
selfish — so generous! 

“Good bye, dearheart. When you read this, I 
shall be miles away. 

“Keep the home yourself, and do not brood, 
dear. Let us strive to be happy, and not permit the 
past to rob us of our peace. 

[79] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“God bless and keep you! is the prayer of your 

desolate Gwin.” 

Gwin’s face was very white when she finished that brief 
letter. She sealed and addressed it. Then she sat for awhile 
with her elbows resting upon the escritoire, her face in her 
hands, and her heart sinking with sickening fear of what 
was before her. This change that had come into her life 
was so sudden — so terrible! she could not realize it. 

She sat thus until Jones came up for her trunk. Then 
she rose and put on a brown hat and veil. 

As she heard the clatter of hoofs coming up the paved 
driveway, she drew on her gloves, picked up the letter and 
the satchel, and went downstairs. 

The housekeeper was in the hall. 

“I am unexpectedly called away,” and Gwin placed the 
letter upon a table. “This will explain to the judge. Give 
it to him when he comes to dinner. 

“Good bye, Mrs. Conner.” 

Without a glance backward, Gwin went out and entered 
the carriage; the footman closed the door, and climbed to 
the box; Jones turned the horses heads; they were off with a 
bound, and the beautiful Kahree home was left desolate. 

When Judge Kahree came home at six o’clock, Mrs. 
Conner met him in the hall with Mrs. Kahree’s letter. His 
heart sank as he recognized the handwriting, for a premoni¬ 
tion of what was coming struck him. He went to the library 
and closed the door before breaking the seal. When dinner 
was announced, the judge went to the dining-room, and 
drank a cup of coffee. But the dinner was carried away 
almost untouched, and morning’s gray dawn found him in 
the library, where he had remained all night. 

[8o] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


A week later, strangers had possession of the Kahree 
home, and the newspapers stated that Judge Kahree and his 
wife had gone to Europe for a tour of many months. 

When Gwin reached the R. R. Station, she purchased a 
ticket to St. Louis, and had her baggage checked. 

She was soon seated in a car, which was moving rapidly 
eastward. Dazed and heart-sick, she sat gazing out at a 
window, seeing nothing. In her ears was the roar and rattle 
of the running train. But her mind took no cognition of it. 
Her face was white and set, and her eyes seemed to be 
looking far away. “What is the end to be?’’ she asked her¬ 
self. If for a moment she glanced longingly backward, duty 
whispered, “Remember Lot’s wife.” Ahead, all was inky 
darkness. 

“Tickets!” demanded the conductor. 

Gwin did not hear. 

He paused beside her. 

“Madam, your ticket, please!” 

Still she was unheeding. 

He touched her upon the shoulder. 

She turned with a start, and the color suffused her face. 

As she gave him her ticket and was turning again to the 
window she met the gaze of a pair of dark eyes in a seat 
across the aisle. The man was of exceptionally fine appear¬ 
ance, and for a moment her attention was attracted to his 
portly physique, broad intellectual forehead, dark thick hair, 
and refined features. 

Strange beings are we, that during the most intense 
mental or physical strain will note minute details with as 
much acuteness as in our periods of happy restfulness. We 
will observe the smallest insect that may pass before our 
vision and note any peculiarity it may possess. The 

[8i] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


drowning man will see the little fly that buzzes about his head, 
or a tiny spider swimming on the water. 

Gwin gave the gentleman opposite her a mere passing 
thought: “A man above the ordinary.” and, turning, re¬ 
sumed her restrospective and prospective musing, where the 
conductor had interrupted it. She lived it all over again — 
the sweetness, the anguish, and she endeavored to lay some 
plans for the future. For hours she sat scarcely moving a 
muscle, or changing her position, her elbow upon the window 
sill, her chin resting upon her hand, and her eyes looking 
straight before her. 

Perhaps it was the great sorrow in her young face that 
first drew the attention of the man across the aisle. Her 
face possessed a rare charm for him. What would he not 
give to know her history. She took so little cognizance of 
things about her that he could study her at will without 
attracting her attention. 

The gentleman we are now introducing has figured 
conspicuously in the highest political and social circles in 
the world. As the “late lamented” has not yet been 
connected with his name, these pages will know him as 
Honorable Edgar Grannell, recently returned from a two 
years absence as embassador to a foreign country. Lawyer 
and politician though he was, no shadow ever had touched 
his fair name. 

It is generally conceded that a strictly honorable man 
can not be a successful lawyer and politician. Edgar Grannell 
thought otherwise. He chose the law as his profession be¬ 
cause his ‘ ‘ inclination and genius ’ ’ ran that way. He saw in 
it an opportunity to develop his “noblest and most virile 
manhood,” and at the same time help his fellowman. He 
made the needs of humanity a study — scorned instigation — 

[82] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


and left selfishness so far out of the question that he refused 
to take any case which he had a suspicion had not right on 
its side. 

But Edgar Grannell — while young in years — had put 
aside the soft dreams of youth, and was permitting the 
“hard, prosaic business that grinds the soul” to rob him of 
life’s poesy. For Man is a dreamer at heart. He builds 
his air-castles in youth, as naturally as birds builds nests in 
spring; and while the stars he reaches in his fiight may be 
meteors, not asteroids, and the ozone he drinks may all be 
imaginary, he is refreshed, rejuvenated, lifted above the 
smoke and din of Earth’s sweatshops, and thus he preserves 
the soft imagery of his emotional nature, without which he 
ages prematurely and becomes cold and grim. 

While Edgar Grannell could not yet be termed cold and 
grim, he had grown coolly indifferent to much that he once 
appreciated and enjoyed. 

It had been eight years since his airy visions were dis¬ 
pelled. The bird with the sable wing suddenly swooped 
down and seized a fair girl, around whom his every plan 
for the future was circling. Then he rushed into politics, 
hoping to find alleviation in the gregarious whirl. Time 
and work had blunted his grief, and when the dapple 
shades of evening fell over the speeding train which was 
bearing him toward St. Louis, it found him wondering almost 
yearningly, if he could love a second time. He now, for 
the first time, permitted himself calmly to review the ashy 
past. 

To stand again in the sunset glow 
With the girl he loved in the long ago. 

[83] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


When the train reach St. Louis, Mr. Grannell kept Gwin 
in sight till she entered a cab and was whirled away, when 
he surprised himself by drawing a deep sigh. 

“I wonder if dotage ever overtakes a man at my age? 
After having turned from scores of handsome women with¬ 
out earing for a second glance. I find myself gazing and 
actually sighing after — I know not whom. ’ ’ 

That night in his dreams Edgar Grannell was a boy 
again, and was weaving a crown of apple blossoms for 
Roxey, his old sweetheart. 

As he finished the wreath and was about to place it upon 
her brow, she turned and glided away; pointing to a 
form he had not observed, she called back: “I can not wear 
it, Edgar; crown her.” He turned, and a peculiar thrill 
swept through him as he looked into the sad gray eyes of 
the woman he had met on the train. He took a step toward 
her, she waved him back: “No, see! I am already crowned;” 
and lo! upon her head — falling over her bright brown hair 
— was a chaplet of cypress and tuberoses. 

After driving several blocks, the cab bearing Gwin 
stopped before a two-story house in a respectable locality. 

A servant admitted and ushered her into a small, neat 
parlor. She handed him her card, and sat down wearily in 
the chair he offered her. 

Soon there appeared a sweet-faced old lady. She held 
Gwin’s card in her hand; but not having her glasses, she 
had not read it. Seeing Gwin, she took a step forward and 
stopped. 

“It can not be — and yet—” 

“It is;” put in Gwin, with a smile. 

“Why, Mrs. Kahree! I can scarcely believe my eyes. 

[84] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


I am so glad to see you! But where is the judge? Is he 
well ? ’ ’ 

“He is in Kansas City, and quite well,thank you. 

“May I stay with you a few days, Mrs. Danks?” 

“Why, certainly; it will give me pleasure. But I fear 
it will he hard for you to put up with my way of living.” 

“No; Mrs. Danks, my circumstances are altogether 
changed. I must learn to adapt myself to new conditions.” 

Mrs. Danks’ eyes widened, but she refrained from ques¬ 
tioning. 

For two years she had been Mrs. Kahree’s housekeeper. 
It was Mrs. Danks who opened the door to admit her the 
first time to her Kansas City home. Mrs. Danks was a lov¬ 
able woman, and she and Mrs. Kahree had become attached 
to each other. 

“Dear Mrs. Danks. I know you to be a true woman on 
whom I can depend. I have turned to you in an hour of 
deep affliction.” 

She paused, and a slight tremor swept her face. To be 
obliged to give utterance to what she now must say, seemed 
degradation. Ground between the upper and nether mill¬ 
stones of loving loyalty and imposing obligation she felt 
benumbed. Her inexperience and the suddenness of her 
decision to leave Judge Kahree had prevented her from con¬ 
sidering distant minutiae. It had not previously occurred to 
her that she would be required to make an explanation. To 
do so, seemed like sacrilege. 

For a few seconds, her finer self struggled with its 
obsession. But there was no way out of it — it must be 
done, and, sick at heart, she resumed: 

“I have told you, Mrs. Danks, that Judge Kahree is well. 
But I am a widow.” 


[ 85 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Mrs. Danks threw up both hands. 

“He was a kind, loving husband. But there were con¬ 
ditions, over which neither of us had any control, which 
made it impossible for us to live together longer. He insisted 
upon supporting me. But I shall support myself by teaching 
music. 

“I wish to live as secluded as possible. I hope you will 
withhold my history — even from your closest friend. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Danks was so overcome by hearing of the breaking 
up of this, as she supposed, model family that for a few min¬ 
utes she was incapable of utterance. She sat wiping tears. 

“No one shall ever hear the story from me,” she 
answered, at last. “But oh, dear! I can not realize it. I 
would not think of questioning you, Mrs. Kahree, but I 
thought Judge Kahree the finest man in his home and the 
best man to a wife that I ever saw; and you — why, I don^t 
see how a wife could be more devoted. The judge wor¬ 
shipped you — I know he did! It will kill him to live with¬ 
out you. He will not do it; he will come for you and take 
you back home; — I feel sure of it.” 

“No, Mrs. Danks. He expects to start for Europe to¬ 
morrow.” 

“I can’t believe that he will give you up so easily.” 

Mrs. Danks continued to brush tears from her eyes. 
The separation of this pair seemed so sad to her, who had 
been so closely associated with them, and had witnessed their 
happiness. Judge Kahree had shown Mrs. Danks great 
kindness, and had been quite a benefactor to her. He held 
a high place in her esteem, and a warm place in her heart. 
The thought of his wandering friendless and alone in for¬ 
eign lands, separated from the wife whom she knew he 
once idolized, appealed to her as peculiarly pathetic. 

[86] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“He doesn’t know where I am. He and I both realize 
that we are bound together by our marriage vow which we 
consider indissoluble, but we shall never see each other 
again.” 

This thought was too new to Gwin to have lost its rigor, 
and with the utterance her face grew tense. 

“Although I do not understand it,” replied Mrs. Danks, 
“knowing you as I do, I feel sure that you are confident 
you are doing right. I have had glimpses in the past of the 
clear vision and moral loftiness of your character.” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Danks; kind, appreciative words, 
just now are peculiarly sweet to me. For my heart is so 
sick— so sick!” 

“I appreciate the honor you have done me in coming to 
me in your hour of trouble. If the friendship of one so 
humble can console and comfort you, it is freely given.” 

Again Gwin murmured her thanks. 

“Are you still keeping boarding house?” 

“Yes.” 

“Have you a room you can spare me?” 

“Yes; fortunately, one of my best rooms is vacant.” 

“There is your trunk, I think,” added Mrs. Dank’s 
rising, as an express wagon stopped at the gate. 

She stepped into the hall, as a man with a trunk upon 
his back appeared at the front door. 

“Take it upstairs to the room on the southeast corner,” 
she directed. 

“Now, Mrs. Kahree, if you will follow me, I will show 
you to your room. I know you must be tired, you look pale 
and worn. “Our lunch hour is one o’clock. If you prefer 
to have yours in your room, I will send it up.” 

“Thank you; I will take both my meals in my room 

[87] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


to-day, if you please; but not after to-day. I belong to the 
working class now, I must do as they do.” 

Mrs. Kahree found her room a large, light, well fur¬ 
nished front room, with an alcove. 

After refreshing herself with a bath, she donned a 
dressing gown, and, throwing herself upon a couch, she 
slept awhile. 

Soon after she awoke, John, a colored servant, came up 
with her luncheon, which he arranged upon a small table. 

“Is dah some’n’ mo’ you wishes, please ma’am,” he 
inquired, bowing almost to the floor. 

“No; I think not,” smiled Gwin, very much amused, for 
John’s bow was as elaborate as the salaam of an Oriental. 
With another grand flourish, in which he bent himself quite 
double, he left the room, leaving Gwin laughing outright. 

John was a yellow dandy, with all the imitative of a 
chimpanzee; and that bow, which he called the “bend-a-ma- 
lah,” he had caught from a french dancing-master who 
boarded with Mrs. Danks. Where he got that compound 
arrangement of letters, the gods alone are able to reveal. 
But it was what John termed a “high style” word. He 
divided his time between practicing the “bend-a-ma-lah;” 
courting Lena, the chambermaid; “dressin’ his se’f up;” 
and a small amount of work; well interspersed with monkey 
shines. 

Mrs. Kahree spent her flrst day in St. Louis resting her 
over-taxed nerves. 

She rose early the next morning, feeling that she must 
not spend any more idle time. So, after breakfast, she 
hurried out, boarded a car, went to a music store, rented a 
piano, and had it put in her room. 

The thought of teaching music gave her pleasure. She 

[88] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


knew nothing about the drudgery of it. For music possessed 
an entrancing power over her which was perceptible the 
moment her fingers touched the keys of an instrument. It 
stole through every pulse, like the magic of sorcery, and 
captivated her faculties; while her listening ear wove her 
joys and sorrows into the harmony in swelling crescendos 
and low modulations. 

One day, several weeks later, Mrs. Danks came to Gwin’s 
room with a daily paper in her hand and something startling 
in her face. Gwin soon saw that she was trying to prepare 
her for a shock. But she could not ask a question. 

Presently, Mrs. Danks broke the information that the 
city of A., in the state of Georgia, had been visited by a 
cyclone. 

Still Gwin stared at her in dumb fear. 

“Your stepfather was seriously injured — in fact, Mrs. 
Kahree, he was killed.” 

Gwin sprang to her feet, then she sat down, limp and 
white, and reached for the paper. 

Mrs. Danks drew it back. 

“Not yet — wait awhile.” 

After a minute, she added. 

“The twins were injured, too.” 

Again Gwin sprang to her feet. 

“Killed?” she cried, with wild eyes. 

Mrs. Danks went to her side, and placed an arm about 

her. 

“But Mamma and Harry? are they? —” 

“Harry is uninjured.” 

“And Mamma?” 

Mrs. Danks was silent, and Gwin would have fallen, had 
not her friend held her. The shock was terrible. For 

m 


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several days following she was unable to rise from her bed. 
But again her strong constitution prevailed and once more 
she heroically took up the burden of her solitary, loveless 
life, animated only by a purpose to live, because she could 
not die. 

She had written to her mother and Harry, telling them 
of her whereabouts, and requesting them never to mention 
to her her desertion of the judge, or question her about it. 
She told them that she was broken hearted, that the judge 
was a good husband, and she still loved him. 

In reply to the telegram which she received from Harry, 
she wrote him that she was sorry she had not gone to 
Spencer Place and died with the dear ones. 

If these letters had reached Harry at any other time, he 
would have taken the first train to St. Louis, to see if Gwin 
had lost her mind. But they came at a time when he was 
almost frenzied with grief. The dear old home was partially 
wrecked, and his father, his stepmother, and dear little Zoe 
and Rob lay side by side in the darkened drawing room 

Brave and strong though he was, he felt for awhile as if 
this would kill him. Like Gwin, he was prostrated. But at 
last, pale and haggard, he set about having the debris re¬ 
moved, the house repaired, and the grounds put in order. 
After all was in ship-shape again, he wrote and begged Gwin 
to come home. 

“0 Harry,” she replied, “it would be so sweet to be 
back at the dear old shelter, but I can not — I must not! I 
am settled here and doing well. I am determined to make 
my own living. I can live more secluded here where I am 
not known. 

“I know, as you say in your letter, we could be a com¬ 
fort to each other. But, Harry dear, we must do without 

[ 90 ] 


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each other awhile. Perhaps, after a few months, I may see 
my way clear to return to Spencer Place, but not now.” 
Harry wrote again and insisted. But Gwin refused. 


[91] 


CHAPTER IX 


I T IS said that Villeneuve, Switzerland, is one of the most 
beautiful and attractive spots in the world. There before 
it, at Jura’s base. Lake Geneva lies palpitating in lustrous 
effulgence. There are the immutable Alps, and the Castle of 
Chillon. 

The hour was early, scarcely daylight, when Judge 
Kahree left a hotel at Villeneuve and walked slowly down a 
promenade which ran along the beach for several blocks. 

The town was sleeping. An occasional milk vendor’s cart 
rattled up the street, and servants were sweeping and wash¬ 
ing front steps, here and there. The judge had arrived at 
this pilgrim’s rest the previous evening. He found so much 
in these scenes to evoke meditation that he strolled on and 
on, his mental vision busy with bivouacs of generations long 
moldered to dust. 

As the sun’s first rays touched the lake, casting myriads 
of diamonds over its pellucid face, and converting the mists 
at Meillerie’s base into an iridescent drapery, the white walls 
of the castle burst upon his sight. He paused, lifted his hat 
reverentially, and stood for a long time with bared head, 
looking about him. 

Several schooners lay at anchor along the beach, a pretty 
yacht danced merrily across the water, while many a white 
swan spread his snowy sail between, and innumerable sea 
gulls dipped and laved, glistening in the sun like burnished 
silver. 

At first glance we see little change in Judge Kahree, 

[92] 


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though it has been four years since last we met him. But 
closer scrutiny reveals a few silver threads about his temples, 
and the tracery of sorrow’s pencil is visible upon his face. 

At last he turned to retrace his steps. As he approached 
the hotel, his eye was caught by the flutter of a white dress 
among the vines upon a portico. A tall, finely poised girl 
stood leaning against one of the fluted pillars, with her back 
to him. Watching her, as a stream of splendor from an east¬ 
ern sky fell over her, he mused: 

“No Greek dream — however extravagant — of the 
‘white-armed, ox-eyed Hera,’ could surpass her in beauty.” 

While American born. Rose Ruthvon’s type was of the 
far East: warm, rich, voluptuous, dazzling. She was the 
petted, only child of a college chum of Judge Kahree’s. 

Mr. Ruthvon was a widower and an invalid, who, accom¬ 
panied by his daughter, had been traveling two years in the 
hope of regaining his health. 

A year ago the judge had come upon them at a summer 
resort in Wales; since then they had been wandering about 
together. 

For some weeks Mr. Ruthvon had been failing. The doc¬ 
tors recommended Villeneuve and predicted that there he 
would rapidly recuperate. 

“Good morning, Miss Ruthvon,” and the judge, removed 
his hat, as he ascended the steps to the portico. 

Rose swung around with a start. She was dreaming of 
the judge at the moment he spoke. She supposed him still 
in bed. 

‘ ‘ Good morning, ’ ’ she answered, as the color in her cheeks 
deepened, contrasting beautifully with her dark Venetian 
orbs. 

She turned her face toward the water again, lest he read 


[93] 


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the mystic language which she felt was speaking in her 
blushes and her faltering eyes. 

But he had observed it — nor was this the first time. 
It saddened him, however, for his heart was all Gwin’s. While 
he knew that they were separated forever, he never thought 
of divorce or remarriage. 

His manner toward Rose in their travels together had 
been most exemplary. Still, his conscience was not quite 
clear. Rose and her father never had heard of his marriage, 
and he — not dreaming that harm could come of it — had 
purposely withheld the information. It was only recently 
that his mistake had dawned upon him. He regretted his 
thoughtlessness and determined to disclose the facts to Mr. 
Ruthvon on the first opportunity. 

The summer previous to his marriage. Rose had met 
Judge Kahree at Newport, where, with her mother, she had 
spent the season. Mere child though she was, she had left 
her heart with him, and from that time she had dreamt of 
him and him only. She determined that if she could not have 
Judge Kahree she would never marry, and she coldly turned 
from the advances of all. 

Hat in hand, the judge was passing on into the hall when 
Rose said over her shoulder: 

“Judge, Father sent me to find you with the request that 
you call at his room as soon as you have breakfasted.'' 

“You have seen him this morning, then?" 

“Yes." 

‘ ‘ How did he stand the trip ?'' 

“I never saw him look so jaded." 

“A few hours rest will bring him out all right, I think," 
replied the judge, stepping to the girl's side. You look as 

[94] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


fresh as a morning glory. I did not expect to see you out 
so early after yesterday’s fatiguing journey.” 

‘ ‘ I could hardly wait for daylight, ’ ’ Rose answered. ‘ ‘ I 
have wished to come here ever since I first read ‘ Lake Lemon, ’ 
when I was a child in school.” 

For awhile the two stood silent, wholly absorbed in con¬ 
templation of the scenes about them. 

“Glorious! isn’t it?” the judge said finally. 

Yes; inspiring. ’Tis said that this is the home of the 
nine Muses. I have been thinking of Byron all morning — 
poor unfortunate wicked gifted Byron. How he loved these 
scenes! ’ ’ 

“And placed eternal distinction upon them,” the judge 
appended. He turned his eyes toward the castle and re¬ 
hearsed : — 

‘ ‘ ‘ Chillon! thy prison is a holy place. 

And thy sad floor an altar — for ’twas trod. 

Until his very steps have left a trace 
Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod. 

By Bonnivard.’ ” 

“I am glad I did not live in more primitive days, when 
men were led into seas of blood by trivial provocations,” 
declared Rose. 

“Like that which Paris gave Manelaus, for instance?” 
smiled the judge. 

“That citation elucidates my text precisely,” the girl 
rejoined with quick humor as she turned her rose-dappled 
face and met his quizzical smile with one equally bantering. 
“A bloody war over a handsome flirt, and it is questionable 
whether we are yet too civilized for that. Possibly, after all, 
I haven’t gained much by being a modern product.” 

[95] 


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The conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a 
gong. 

The judge and Rose turned into the hall, and, with a 
stream of others, entered the breakfast room. 

As they came out into the hall, after breakfast. Rose 
turned toward the portico. 

“I will go out here awhile; Papa wishes to see you alone. ’’ 

Judge Kahree bowed and entered an elevator. He was 
soon in his friend’s room. He found Mr. Ruthvon reclining 
upon a couch, looking very ill. 

“How are you this morning?” inquired the judge, tak¬ 
ing the sick man’s extended hand and pressing it warmly. 

Mr. Ruthvon pointed to an easy chair. 

“Draw it this way a little nearer.Well, Arrel, old 

friend, my days are numbered. I want to have a talk with 
you while I have strength,” he said, as the judge sat down. 

“Come now, Ruthvon, this will never do ! You must not 
give way to despondency.” 

“I am not despondent, but I realize my condition. Suf¬ 
fering has made me tired of life; I don’t care how soon re¬ 
lease comes. But, Arrel, I have a load upon my mind. I 
can’t die satisfied until I have disposed of it.” 

The sick man closed his eyes. After a few minutes he 
opened them and turned them full into those of the judge. 

“My burden is Rose. I can not die and leave her with¬ 
out a protector. She doesn’t know anything about the rough 
side of life. As you are aware, she is as inexperienced in 
all that is hard and taxing as an unfiedged bird. She couldn’t 
battle with the world. Perhaps we made a mistake in shelter¬ 
ing her so carefully from contact with those things. But it 
is too late now to correct mistakes. 

“Rose has had scores of suitors, among them the most 

[96] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


eligible men in the land. But she has cared for none of them. 
Since her mother’s death she clings to me so closely that I 
can not see how she is going to get along without me; unless 
— well — I may as well out with it, Arrel; Rose loves you 
but she doesn’t know that I am in possession of her secret.” 

Again Mr. Ruthvon paused and closed his eyes. 

“I had hoped,” he began again, “that you might love 
Rose well enough to marry her. I would rather give her to 
you than to any other man alive.” 

“Ruthvon, I have a living wife.” 

Mr. Ruthvon had risen to his elbow. He sank back upon 
the pillow white and almost fainting. 

The judge arose, and, stepping to a table, poured some 
cordial into a glass, gave it to the sick man, and he soon 
revived. 

“I have had it in my mind several times to tell you 
about my marriage,” resumed Judge Kahree, after the color 
had returned to his friend’s face. “But the subject is pain¬ 
ful ; I have avoided it for that reason. ’ ’ 

“You know, Ruthvon, when and where I began to sow 
my wild oats; — and you know how profuse was that sowing. 

'W'ell_I married — married the only woman I ever loved. 

To-day, while my heart is yearning for wife and home, I am 
a wanderer, reaping the harvest of that sowing.” 

This brief introspection had brought beads to Judge 
Kahree’s brow. He took his handkerchief from his pocket, 
and wiped his face; then he sat down, and leaned back in the 
chair. For a few moments he sat ruminating sadly, his face 
turned to a window, his eyes idly skimming the scintillating 

waters below. 

“What a mocking travesty my life has been,” he began 

[97] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

again in a slow voice. ‘‘Yet, I blame no one but Arrel 
Kahree. ’ ’ 

Then Judge Kahree told his friend the whole sad story. 
After he had finished, neither spoke for awhile. 

My wife has a warm ideal nature, — passionate — but 
rational always — and always sweet and tender. When she 
learned the truth, it crushed her. But she had no fantastic 
wish to court epic martyrdom for herself, as women so often 
do when they have connubial troubles. She took up her 
burden without fanfaronade and told no one that she had 
a burden. While she refused to continue to be my wife she 
consented to live under the same roof with me until I could 
endure it no longer. For I was as madly in love with her 
the day I left her as the day I married her. We played a 

farce to the world five years. I had repented; but that could 
not restore to me my treasure. 

. . . Ah Ruthvon!’^ — after a long pause, “such love 
as I had for that woman is a thing to be feared. It was mad¬ 
ness ! — madness! I have concluded that I must be a strong 
man — or I would have committed suicide. For when I lost 
her, I lost all that was worth living for. At one time, my 

honor, reason and conscience were all subservient to that mad 
affection.” 

I‘Then, I am to understand that the separation is final?” 
Yes; oh, yes! It is all over between us. I never expect 
to see her face again in this world.” 

The judge arose and began to pace the floor, as he always 
did when he permitted his mind to dwell upon the past. 

Mr. Ruthvon closed his eyes and waited nervously until 

Judge Kahree resumed his seat, which he did not do for some 
time. 

“Well, Arrel,” began Mr. Ruthvon, as the judge sat 

[98] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


down, “it is no nse for me to have nice scruples now. I am 
going to ask a favor of you. I know that my little girl loves 
you. You know it, too; you are not blind. It is for her 
happiness that I am planning. , She would have been well 
married before this, had it not been for that season with you 
at Newport. I want your promise that you will secure a 
divorce and marry Rose. You will never regret it. She is 
sweet and good. As for beauty and accomplishments, she has 
few peers. 

“Yes, yes; Rose is all that, I am aware. But, Ruthvon, 

I can not comply with your request. Such an arrangement 
would be unjust to her. She would not marry me if she knew 
the truth, — knew that I did not love her.” 

“She needn’t know it;” quickly responded the anxious 
father. “It will not hurt her, if she doesn’t know it. Besides, 
you couldn’t be so closely associated with as attractive a 
woman as Rose is, without loving her. It doesn t belong to 
human nature — at least not to man s nature, at your age, 
to resist youth and beauty. 

“You say yourself that your heart yearns for love and 
home. A perfectly natural feeling. The trouble is you have 
become morbid over the loss of the other woman. If you 
marry Rose, you will soon be as madly in love with her as 
you were with the other, and it is the very thing you should 
strive to do, since there is no hope of reconciliation. Life s 
too short to nurse remorse. The past is gone, let it go. The 
future is yours, make the best of it, Arrel my heart is set 
on this; I can not give it up. Remember I once at the 
risk of my own life — saved you from drowning. You now 
have it in your power to lift a load from my dying heart. WiU 

you refuse to do it?” 

“Now see here, Ruthvon, brace up and expunge the 

[ 99 ] 


> 

) 


) 

> ) 


> 


> ) ) 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


thought of death. You’ll live years, if you determine to do 
it. You are tired, that’s all — exhausted.” 

Mr. Ruthvon threw out a hand with an impatient gesture. 

‘‘Arrel, answer me! Will you, or will you not grant 
my dying request? Do you remember how I nursed you 
through that attack of fever in Cuba? You would have died 
then, had it not been for me.” 

have not forgotten, Ruthvon.” 

After this there fell a period of silence between them, in 
which the voice of time upon the mantel proclaimed the es¬ 
caping moments in strong accents, and its tick-tick-tiek seemed 
to Mr. Ruthvon to grow louder and more accentuated with 
each second. Judge Kahree was rapt in meditation. Mr. 
Ruthvon watched him narrowly, glancing anxiously at the 
clock, now and then. Finally, the judge arose and began an 
abstracted pace through the room. Mr. Ruthvon closed his 
eyes and endeavored to hold his nerves. The minutes were 
passing. Would the judge never desist? He stopped before 
a window; his eyes wandered over the scenes which two hours 
ago possessed such thrilling interest for him. Now they were 
unobserved. Another of life’s crises confronted him. What 
should he do ? Which way was right ? At last, to the great 
relief of the sick man, the judge sat down. 

“Ruthvon, it is hard to refuse the dying request of such 
a friend as you have been to me. I can’t refuse; yet, I 
tremble at the thought of granting it. I will do so, however, 
on conditions.” 

“What are the conditions?” 

“That I be permitted to tell your daughter the whole 
story. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Oh, that will never do, never! Rose would not refuse 
to comply with my dying behest; even if she knew you had no 

[lOO] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


love for her; but it would make such a cruel wound. I can 
not permit it!” 

“Very well, then, I will have no more to do with it. I 
have practiced my last deception. ’ ’ 

Judge Kahree arose and turned toward the door. 

‘ ‘ Sit down! sit down! don’t leave me! ’ ’ cried Mr. Ruth- 
von excitedly, looking so weak and nervous that the judge 
again administered the cordial. 

“Ruthvon, you should not permit this agitation; it is 
dangerous.^’ 

The invalid did not reply; for some time he lay with 
closed eyes. At length he reached out a hand, and touched 
a bell-button. ... A servant answered. 

“Send Miss Ruthvon to me!’’ 

Soon Rose swept into the room, bringing with her an air 
of freshness and perfume. As she passed the judge her skirts 
brushed his feet, and he gave her a sweeping glance. He was 
not the sort of man to be blind to feminine attractiveness. 
But it had never disturbed his constancy to Gwin. He ac¬ 
knowledged Rose’s opulence of charm as rare, acknowledged 
her the most beautiful woman he ever had seen, but 
not the most fascinating to him. He knew that many 
a man had plead in vain for the love of this exquisite creature ; 
that she was casting rich heart treasures at his feet, which 
he might gather and garner, if he would. But his heart 
turned backward and its cry was, ‘ ‘ Gwin! oh, Gwin! ” 

Rose bent over her father and placed a hand upon his 

brow. ^ ^ 

“You look so ill this morning. Papa, you frighten me. 

Mr. Ruthvon drew her down and kissed her. 

“I am very ill, dear. You must begin to think of what 

you will do when I am gone. ’ ’ 

[lOl] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Hush, Papa! I can not bear it!’’ 

Rose sank to her knees, covered her face with her hands, 
and buried it upon his bosom. For awhile no sound was heard, 
save her low sobs, and the tick of the clock. 

Mr. Ruthvon lay with closed eyes, tenderly stroking his 
daughter’s hair, while now and then a tear stole down his 
face and fell upon the pillow. 

“I sent for you. Rose dear, to tell you that I must leave 
you soon, and I must make some provision for your future. 
You can not battle with the world alone, I know that. Little 
is left from the financial wreck which caught me two years 
ago. What answer can I give your mother, when I meet her, 
if I leave you unprotected ? Oh, I can’t do it! and, dear, if 
my plan doesn’t meet with your approval, you must listen to 
reason, and remember your father knows best.” 

‘ ‘ 0, Papa! I can not live without you! ’ ’ 

Again, there was silence in the room, save for her sobs. 
Tears chased each other down Mr. Ruthvon’s face, while his 
arm encircled his stricken daughter and held her close. 

The judge arose, crossed the room to a window and stood 
with his back to the pathetic scene. 

After waiting some time, Mr. Ruthvon said: 

“Now dear, calm yourself and listen, while Judge Kahree 
tells you the story of his life. Then I have a request to make. 
If you refuse to grant it, it will break my heart.” 

“It is granted. You would not ask me to do wrong; so, 
whatever it is, it shall be as you wish.” 

‘ ‘ Thank you, darling! 

“Go on Arrel.” 

Judge Kahree slowly turned, crossed the room and re¬ 
sumed his chair. 

“This may seem to you an inopportune time. Rose, to 

[102] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


be required to listen to the story of my life. But your father 
has requested me — in the event of his demise — to become 
your guardian. I can do so only with your consent. Before 
you are asked to give it, you are entitled to enlightenment 
regarding some regrettable happenings in my experience.” 

The judge then rehearsed the essential details in a delicate 
manner. He could see only the side of the girl’s face; it was 
still covered with her hands and rested upon her father’s 
bosom. With the finishing of the narrative a hush fell over 
the trio which was broken by Judge Kahree: 

“Now, Kose, the proposition before us is this: 

“Your father is mj^ senior by some years; he is an in¬ 
valid; I am in good health; consequently, I may outlive him. 
I have this day given him my promise that, in case I do, I 
will — with your permission — take his place as your pro¬ 
tector. He stipulates that I am to keep you with me and 
associate with you as closely as he has done. For me to 
do this without a marriage ceremony would be to bring re¬ 
proach upon us both. I can not offer you a husband’s love 
while my wife is living — even after I have divorced her, — a 
thing I would not do under any other circumstances, — al¬ 
though the separation is final. If death should sever the tie 
and spare me, and my love would be acceptable to you then, 
you should freely have the vacant place in my heart. For, 
Rose, it would be easy to worship at your shrine. If I had 
not had this great love and sorrow in my heart, I should 
probably have been at your feet long ago. 

“But that is neither here nor there. The proposition is, 
that we are to take refuge under a marriage ceremony. I 
can give you a husband’s care and protection and a brother’s 
love. But I have conscientious scruples against the remarriage 
of divorced people. You know, by the confession I just made, 

[103] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


that I have not always been conscientious along all lines. But 
I have always looked upon the marriage vow as most sacred 
and I feel that I am in honor bound by it until death severs 
the tie. So the marital relation between us would simply be 
semblance — we will live together as brother and sister, 
while to the world we shall appear to be man and wife. 
Rose, will you consent to this — will you marry me ? ’ ’ 

What a strange offer of marriage! — what an unheard 
of proposition! Rose recalled the scores of proposals she 
had listened to which were fairly aflame with protestations 
of affection; but which, because of her love for this man, 
had fallen upon her ear impressionless; and this venal, merci¬ 
less offer of terms was from the man she worshiped — the man 
who had filled her dreams since she was a mere child. 

“0, Papa! spare me! spare me! I pray you!’^ 

She lifted her head and looked into her father’s eyes. 

“Do not insist upon this marriage! How can I marry 
him, knowing that he does not love me! How can I consent 
to burden him so! Spare me this horrible fate! Oh, spare 
me. Papa, I implore! ’ ’ 

“Rose dear, there’s no other way; you have promised 
already. You will not now refuse to grant my dying request.” 

With a moan, the poor girl’s face fell into her hands 
again. 

‘ ‘ Rose, you will not burden me; I have more money than 
I know how to spend. Besides, I need you fully as much 
as you will need me — perhaps more. Think of my lonely 
life. I need the sympathy and companionship of just such 
a pure, sweet sister. I never had a sister. Let me have one. 
Rose, don’t refuse me! ” 

‘ ‘ 0, Papa, spare me! spare me! ” Again Rose lifted her 
head and looked pleadingly into her father’s face. 

[104] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“My child, you do not know what you are doing. 

‘ ‘ I can not do this! oh, I can not! ’ ’ 

“My beautiful darling, you are very unsophisticated, or 
you would know that the man sitting there — when once 
bound to you — can no more resist you than he can resist 
the air he breathes. (Pardon me, both of you, I am obliged 
to speak plainly.) Marry him, child, and win his love. You 
need not put forth the least effort. Be your own sweet self, 
and Arrel Kahree will soon be a slave to his affection for you. ’ ^ 

Rose’s face grew scarlet; she broke into fresh sobs. 

The judge was all alive to her trying position. 

“Rose,” he pleaded, “I am very desolate; marry me for 
my own sake! let that be the only consideration. There are 
few pleasures in my life now. I really need you. I will do 
all in my power to make you happy. Do not refuse me. Rose! 
it will disappoint me more than you think.” 

Mr. Ruthvon was very much exhausted. He now fell into 
a coma. 

Observing it. Rose turned her head, and beckoned the 
judge to lean toward her. She put her lips close to his ear 
and whispered: 

‘ ‘ His mind was wandering, or he would not have made so 
flighty a request. Let us drop the subject forever.” 

Soft as was her whisper, it reached the ear rendered acute 
by the near approach of dissolution. 

“Your promise. Rose,” gasped Mr. Ruthvon. 

Rose turned and looked into his face. It was ghastly. 

“Yes, Papa, I will! I will!” 

The dying man smiled, pressed her hand and was gone. 


CHAPTER X 


O NE week later Judge Kahree left Villeneuve, to return 
to the United States for his divorce. Rose accompa¬ 
nied him as far as Bologna, where he secured a maid for her, 
and a quiet boarding place with refined Americans. 

The morning on which he was to sail they were alone 
in the parlor at her boarding house. She had risen early, 
to accompany him to the pier. She had her hat on and was 
drawing on a pair of long gloves which, in her absent minded 
state, she had neglected to don in her dressing-room. The 
judge stepped to her side, and buttoned them; saying, in the 
tender, sympathetic tone habitual to him when addressing 
afflicted ones, or those weaker or older than himself: 

“I am sorry to leave you now. Rose. I know how very 
lonely you will be. I shall not be gone a day longer than is 
necessary. ’ ’ 

Rose could not reply. It required all her strength and 
pride to preserve a calm exterior. 

The day was fine. They preferred to walk to the wharf 
— a mile away. There was no necessity for haste, so they 
strolled leisurely, while the judge talked to Rose cheeringly 
of the time when he would return, and they would renew 
companionship. 

She looked divinely beautiful that morning. At her 
father’s request Rose did not wear mourning. He wished her 
always to be bright for Judge Kahree. 

The judge' carried with him to America the picture of 
her face as it looked under the shady hat with its broad lace 

[io6] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


strings looped loosely under her pretty chin, and its soft brim 
bending at one side under a weight of crimson moss roses. 
Her velvety eyes could not now hide from the judge her great 
love for him. Her cheeks and lips were aglow with rich color 
induced by the intensity of her feeling. She had forgotten 
every thing but that her father was gone, and that the judge 
was leaving her forever, perhaps — for she had been given 
a new realization of life’s uncertainty. 

When they reached the wharf, the judge lingered beside 
Rose until the gang-plank was about to be taken in. Then, 
with a clasp of the hand, he hurried aboard, and she watched 
the gulf widen between them until the ship disappeared. 
When she turned, walked a few rods, and, regardless of star¬ 
ing idlers, sank to a bench, buried her face in her handker¬ 
chief, and was sobbing softly. 

“My child, some of life’s lessons are very bitter.” 

Rose lifted her face. The speaker was an elderly Roman 
Catholic priest. 

“0 Father, I am so desolate! A week ago, my father 
died. To-day, the last link with the old life seems severed.” 

“My child, human life is a sorrowful pilgrimage to the 
shrine eternal. The Church is a blessed retreat where you 
may find peace.” 

“Don’t talk to me about the Church!” protested Rose 
impatiently. She knew little about religion and cared less, 
and this sounded like mockery in her half-dazed, despairing 
condition. 

“You will find alleviation from sorrow in the path of 
duty,” insisted the priest. 

“Where does my duty lie?” 

The priest pointed to a large building in the distance. ^ 

“The duty of some is there — the duty of others is 

[ 107 ] 


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elsewhere. You can possibly answer that question better for 
yourself, my daughter. But the human heart should be made 
a solemn sacrifice to Heaven.” 

The girl rose to her feet. If the priest had proposed to 
lead her into a dolorous morass, to find surcease from grief, it 
would have seemed quite as reasonable to her as this. Her 
life had suddenly become tragical, she could not understand 
how religion could change it. 

‘‘You make me feel as if I were going into a hideous 
nightmare. What do I care for the Church, or Heaven itself! 
I have no crime to expiate.” 

She pointed across the water. 

“Every pulse of the engine of yon out-going ship is 
bearing further and further from me the only being upon 
earth whose love I crave. God — if there is one — has 
refused me even this. Yet, you would have me to cover as 
in a funeral urn the ashes of my heart, and offer them a 
sacrifice to Heaven. Will nothing-appease Heaven but blood? 
Give me a religion in which there is no bleeding sacrifice, if 
you would have me to accept it. I can no more worship the 
God of Christendom than I could worship the Bull Apis, of 
the Pharaohs. The philosophy of Omar is more to my taste.” 

‘ ‘ Girl! Girl! what are you saying ? Take that back, it 
is blasphemy! Take it back! Don’t leave this spot with those 
fearful words standing in eternity against you! ’ ’ 

“ Is it so terrible to have spoken the truth ? ’ ’ Rose coolly, 
stooped and picked up her handkerchief, which had fallen at 
her feet. 

“You are dazzlingly beautiful, child,” murmured the 
priest, gazing at her with a sort of fascinated horror, “but 
you are not sane.” 

“I believe you are right,” she assented, with .a slight 

[io8] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


curl of her rose-leaf lips. “Since you have called my atten¬ 
tion to it, I suspect it myself. Such garrulousness as I have 
just been displaying is not natural with me. Henceforth, I 
shall endeavor to be sufficiently sane to keep my troubles to 
myself. ’ ’ 

Rose sank to the seat again, for her limbs trembled under 
her. The high tension to which her usually calm nerves had 
been strung for the last week had brought her to the verge 
of a breakdown. It was not like her to be uncivil to any one, 
especially to a senior. If Judge Kahree had heard her talk¬ 
ing to the priest, and had observed her vehemence and im¬ 
patience, he scarcely could have believed this the quiet, well- 
bred lady he had traveled with so many months. But the 
poor girl was almost distracted. 

“Pardon me, sir,’' she said, offering the priest her hand. 

He took it. It was cold and trembling, and she looked ill. 

She rose, and slowly dragged herself back to her board¬ 
ing house. 

The priest stood gazing after her. 

‘ ‘ Fair and sacrilegious as Belial, ’ ’ he mused. ‘ ‘ The 
Church shall have no concord with Belial.” 

Arrel Kahree, going forth upon what he believed was an 
errand of duty was performing an act of self-sacrifice. The 
thought of a divorce hurt him. In fact he did not believe 
that any court could release him from the vow he took that 
October noonday at Spencer Place. So, when he shall have 
received the bill it will be a mere empty form to him and 
he will consider himself as much Gwin’s husband as before 
it was granted. For he possessed a logical mind. He realized 
that the indissolubility of marriage involves an eternal prin¬ 
ciple which constitutes the only foundation for the most sacred 

[ 109 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


of all institutions — the family — without which civilization 
must deteriorate and die. 

When marriage lost its sanctity, Rome fell. 

Under the pressure of such suasion as Mr. Ruthvon had 
used upon Judge Kahree, any man, however wise and far- 
seeing, might be induced into some measure which he would 
scout as ridiculously impracticable for others. 

To believe himself able to accomplish that in which an¬ 
other would fail is a man characteristic ■— a masterful trait 
it is, and the world owes much of its greatness to it. But, 
on the other hand, many a man owes his downfall to it. This 
trait leads men to risk tampering with intoxicants, while 
watching other tipplers fall by hundreds. You rarely hear a 
drinking man say that he was surprised to see the other 
fellow go down. He will tell you that he was expecting it. 
But himself — oh, that’s different! 

Judge Kahree would not have had the unique proposition 
which he had entered into whispered among his acquaintances 
for his right hand. Not that he anticipated failure. But he 
told himself that, while it was not of his choosing, it was his 
own affair, and it was a case in which the opinions of other 
men were untenable. 


[no] 


- CHAPTER XI 


T ime had partially annulled old feelings in Gwin’s mind 
and given her a new outlook on life. Outwardly she 
appeared unchanged. A little stronger force of self reliance, 
perhaps, was in her bearing and her face was alight with 
contentment. She was still in St. Louis, boarding with Mrs. 
Danks. She had set about earning her daily bread as if she 
had been accustomed to it. It was not easy. But as the 
months went by, she became inured to the hardship and 
discouragements of a teacher's life, of which dull pupils 
with sprawling fingers and eyes that seldom read correctly 
are largely components. Sometimes, after spending an hour 
bending above such a one, she sank down exhausted and 
heart sick for awhile. At such times she comforted herself 
by comparing her lot with that of Mrs. Danks, who was a 
lady, and had seen better days, but who, in her old age, was 
carrying the burden of a boarding house. This comparison 
usually left Gwin well satisfied with her lot. 

Judge Kahree had left America without having heard 
of the terrible tragedy at Spencer Place. He supposed Gwin 
was safely sheltered there. He had written her that a bank 
account was at her disposal in Kansas City. The letter was 
sent to Spencer Place and, forwarded to St. Louis. 

One Sunday morning, as Mrs. Kahree took her seat at 
the breakfast table, John came prancing forward with his 
graceful "bend-a-ma-lah.” He took her order, and with 
another low bow, turned and tripped off toward the kitchen. 
He met Lena in the back hall. 


[Ill] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘John, you knows what you minds me oh when you 
makes yo’ ol’ bend-a-ma-lahr’ 

“No:’’ grinned John, stopping short in the hope of get¬ 
ting a compliment. 

“You looks like fish-wo’m, squi’min’ roun’ on a hook: 
he-he-he, you sho does.” 

John made a dive at Lena, catching her by the sleeve, 
which tore out, leaving a yellow arm dangling behind the 
rags. She dodged into the kitchen, running plump against 
Aunt Cinda, who was carefully crossing the room with a 
crock full of milk. Down went Cinda, milk, crock and all, 
with a splash, a crash, and a yell. 

For once, John got his order without Cinda’s assistance, 
and escaped before she could regain her feet and get the milk 
out of her eyes. But her tongue was loose, and had it been as 
dangerous as it sounded, John’s mortal career would have 
ended then and there. 

“If I evah lives to git up off dis fioah, I’s gwine to kill 
you two niggahs — shoah’s my name’s Cinderella!” she 
gurgled, as milk spurted from her nose. “Look at me, Lena! 
look at yo ’ mammy 1 ’ ’ 

Aunt Cinda rolled over with a groan, then slowly rose, 
while little streams of milk trickled from her nose, forehead, 
chin, and finger tips. 

Lena began to grin. 

“Did it hu’t you much. Mammy?” 

“Shut up!” yelled Aunt Cinda, “you nasty, little 
blubbeh-mouth fool! Git a bucket an’ mop, an’ clean up dat 
slop, ’fo’ I make soap-grease o’ yo’ hide! an’ if dat no ’count, 
good-fo’-nothin’, yallah imp, John cross my path any mo’ 
to-day, wif de help ob de Lohd, I’se gwine to seal’ him! I 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


shoah will! I’s tihed dis niggah foolery; I can’t stan’ it no 
mo’, an’ I’se not gwine to try!” 

In about three minutes after John had left the dining 
room he was back arranging Mrs. Kahree’s breakfast about 
her plate, bowing and smiling, as if his death warrant was 
not at that very moment being read in the kitchen. The 
kitchen was far enough from the dining-room that no sound 
of the tragedy had reached Mrs. Kahree’s ears. The dining¬ 
room was cool, quiet and beautifully clean. 

But John was in a dilemma. In the midst of his con¬ 
tortions he was busy trying to formulate a plan. Sunday 
morning was the only time he was ever in much of a hurry. 
He liked to get through with his work on Sundays early, 
and “fix hisse’f up,” and promenade in the back yard. He 
had a gorgeous new “yallah” necktie to exhibit on this 
particular morning to the various back door gazers in that 
neighborhood and time was precious and fleeting. But how 
was he to get into the kitchen, to do his work? 

John tiptoed along the back hall to the kitchen door 
and listened. He could hear the teakettle singing on the 
stove. The sound made him shudder. Aunt Cinda was as 
big as two of him. If she ever got him in the kitchen with 
her back against the door, he was a “gone cone.” She was 
a virago, when her temper was up, and Mrs. Banks out of 
sight. 

While John was not exactly worth his weight in gold 
as a servant, Mrs. Banks had raised him and was partial to 
him. A fact which Aunt Cinda was not slow to discover, 
and it aroused her hatred. Like the proverbial horse-trading 
deacon, John was honest, (as far as the circumstances in 
the case required), and Mrs. Banks trusted him further than 
she did Aunt Cinda and Lena, — but not much further. 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

As Mrs. Kaliree was the last one to breakfast, and John’s 
services were no longer required in the dining room, he 
skipped up to Mrs. Danks’ room and tapped at the door. 

“Miss Sally.” 

“Well, John what is it?” inquired Mrs. Danks, without 
opening the door. 

Aunt Cinda done wash huh ol’ black face in a crock o’ 
milk.” 

“Why John!” 

The door flew open, and out came Mrs. Danks. 

“Yes’m, she shoah did, I done ketched huh.” 

John looked very serious until Mrs. Danks turned and 
started downstairs; then his mouth was stretched almost 
from ear to ear, and he danced along behind her in high 
glee. He now had a free passport to the kitchen. Mrs. 
Danks knew Aunt Cinda’s weakness and (although there 
was not a pot in the kitchen as black and shiny as her 
face,) if she were told that a milk bath would improve her 
complexion, she would try the experiment. 

They found Aunt Cinda standing in the center of the 
kitchen the picture of Ethiopian fury. She had taken off 
her milk-soaked dress, which left her robed in a red petti¬ 
coat and a short sleeved underwaist. With a towel, she was 
trying to wipe the milk from her woolly pate. 

Lena, about to explode with laughter, but not daring 
to let her mother discover it, was on her knees with a bucket 
and mop beside her, picking up the pieces of broken crock. 

“Now, Miss Sally,” grinnned John, “you sees fo’ 
yo ’se ’f. ’ ’ 

There was murder in Aunt Cindy’s’ eyes as she turned 
on him. 


[114] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


^‘Miss Sally, dat coon done knock me down, an’ t’row 
a crock full o’ milk obah me!” 

“Did I, Lena?” 

“No: Mammy know you nebah. I run gin huh, an’ she 
fall down, an’ spill de milk on huhse’f. John nebah touched 
huh.” 

“Lena, let John clean up that slop, and you put on your 
clean dress, and go to your chamber-work.” 

With this command, Mrs. Danks withdrew. 

There was an ominous scowl on Aunt Cinda’s face 
which made John feel uncomfortable. He began to plan to 
get her in good humor. 

“Aunt Cinda, if you knows how good lookin’ you is in 
dat red ski’t an’ white wais,’ wid yo putty fat a’ms and shiny 
feet, you wouldn’t nebah put on yo’ dress no mo’. She look 
jes like a show pietuah, don’ she, Lena?” 

“Yes,” giggled Lena, “if Mammy would dance she’d be 
shuah nuff show.” 

“Aw, git away from huh!” exclaimed Aunt Cinda. 

John glanced at her face; its muscles had relaxed some¬ 
what. 

“Lena,” he continued, “I wishes you took mo’ aftah yo’ 
mammy. Jis look at yo’little ol’, skinny a’ms. I don’t know 
what make me like you so good. I think de fat black gals 
heap puttier ’n de yallah kind. If I jis been ’roun’ when you 
was a gal. Aunt Cinda; oh, golly! Lena, if you don’ drink 
mo’ milk, I’s gwine to trade you off.” 

“Dah’s some down dah she bettah lick up,” put in Aunt 
Cinda, trying to preserve her frowm, but grinning, in spite 
of herself. 

With a wink at Lena, who understood and answered 
with a snicker, John took off his white jacket, apron and cap, 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

hung them upon a nail, rolled up his sleeves, drew on a pair 
of overalls, and took Lena’s place on the floor, feeling that 
he could safely turn his back on Cinda and the steaming tea¬ 
kettle now. Lena left the room, to obey Mrs. Banks’ orders, 
and quiet again reigned in the kitchen. 

An hour later Mrs. Kahree and Mrs. Banks came down¬ 
stairs together ready for church. 

The day was delightful. The city lay quiet and peaceful 

in the golden quivering air, while sparrows twittered 
cheerily on every hand. 

Gwin felt very happy. She and Mrs. Banks went out 
and turned into the long avenue of elms which bordered the 
walk to the church. 

Gwin was dressed in white. Her eyes looked deep and 

starry, under her shady hat. Mrs. Hanks thought she never 
had seen her look fairer. 

After the service was over, when Gwin turned to leave 
the pew, she found herself looking into a pair of magnetic 
eyes which evoked the mental query: “Who is that man? 
where have I met him? His features seem quite familiar to 
me.” Her mind turned backward, as if to some sad, half- 
forgotten dream. But all efforts proved futile to recall it 

The Honorable Edgar Grannell had started for a short 
stroll that fine Sabbath morning, and its superb charm had 
ured him on until he was many blocks from home. Passing 
the church, as the people were congregating, he felt a little 
weary, and concluded to go in and rest. 

As the usher was seating him, a lady passed into the 
opposite pew. At the first glimpse of her, his heart gave a 
mighty leap. There was the face which had haunted him for 
months, despite the fact that he had poured cloud-bursts of 

[“ 6 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


scorn upon himself, and called himself hard names — such 
as imbecile and idiot. 

That sermon seemed ridiculously short to Edgar 
Grannell. To every one else in the church, it was sufficiently 
lengthy. It was with reluctance that he arose, to hear the 
benediction. He liked short sermons, as a rule. But he told 
himself that he had not had time to rest. 

He passed down the aisle directly behind Mrs. Kahree, 
and he walked behind her and Mrs. Banks until they entered 
the gate at the boarding-house. 

The next Sunday morning the Honorable Edgar Gran¬ 
nell attended that church again. The sermon seemed dry 
and long this time, for the magnet was wanting. 

The next day he went to the boarding house behind the 
door of which the one he sought had disappeared, and en¬ 
gaged a few days board. Not a glimpse of Gwin did he have. 
He remained there a week. 

As a last resort, he inquired of the landlady — a big 
red-faced, red-haired woman — who declared she had no 
knowledge of any lady bearing the description he gave. For 
some unaccountable reason — perhaps because of the fear of 
losing her handsome boarder —■ she failed to tell him that 
she had lived in that house less than a week, when he came, 
and that Mrs. Banks had moved to a larger house, in a more 
desirable locality. 

Mr. Grannell was more disappointed than he had been 
for many a day — more dissappointed than he liked to 
admit, even to himself. So, as he left the place, he tried to 
joke with himself: 

“I am reminded of Orpheus, when he came up out of the 
long, dark passage followed by Eurydice,” he smiled. 
‘‘When just as he reached the upper air with her and was 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


sure he had her safe, she was snatched back, and the gate 
d.,.,! between a..„. No w.Met the p “ 

fellow welled hie woe. B„, I will pro«t bj hi, f.t, and keep 
y ismal song to myself — for bacchanals are still fierce, 
ave lost my Eurydice — forever, no doubt. I feel like 

and"h";V' -d bear 

It, and he did grin, in spite of his disappointment. 


CHAPTER XII 


M any months have flown, and not another glimpse of the 
one he sought, has Edgar Grannell had. He long since 
has given up the search. 

One autumn morning about sun-up, a train steamed into 
St. Louis and a gentleman with a very pleasing personality 
stepped from it. The Honorable Edgar Grannell* was return¬ 
ing from Havana, where he had been several months. With a 
searching glance about him his eyes encountered a familiar 
form. He stepped forward with a smile. An old African 
stood a few feet away, a tall silk hat in one hand, and a 
yellow silk bandana in the other. 

“Hello, Uncle Tom! It seems good to see you again.” 
Mr. Grannell clasped the sable hand warmly. “How are all 
at home?” 

“Dey’s all well; thankee, suh! But, Mist ah Edgah, I 
can’t hahdly speak to you; I’s so busy thankin’ de Lawd fob 
bringin’ you safe home. I nebah ’spect to see you no mo’l 
Rich done cried so much when she heah you’s sick, dat she 
done wore troughs clean down from huh eyes to de bottom 
ob huh chin.” 

‘ ‘ Poor old Mammy! ’ ’ 

Edgar Grannell entered the carriage. Uncle Tom closed 
the door, and, clambering to the driver’s box, he cracked the 
whip, and away they sped to the Grannell mansion. Arriving 
there, the driveway gate flew open, as if by magic, and with 
a grand flourish, which made Uncle Tom feel like he was in 
his teens, he brought the “chestnuts” to an impatient halt 
before the broad piazza. 

[II9] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


^‘You haven’t forgotten how to manage horses, Uncle 
Tom,” smiled Mr. Grannell, as he left the carriage, and 
ascended the marble steps to the porch. 

No, suh; no, suh; I ain ’ fo ’got nothin ’ since you lef ’ 
huh, suh! But dey’s mighty lively dese days. All de time 
thinking ’bout play, nothin’ but play, like two kittens.” 

The hall door suddenly w^as flung open, and out sprang 
a slender girl with violet eyes and black hair. Her sweet, 
refined face was all aglow with gladness as she threw herself 
into Mr. Grannell’s out-stretched arms, and lifted her pursed 
lips for a kiss. But she immediately hid her face in his bosom 
and sobbed: 

“0 Uncle Edgar!” 

As he held her close, her delicate form was convulsed 
with weeping. 

“My poor little Anna!” he answered pityingly; as a tear 
stole down his face, and fell among her dark locks. 

Three months previous to this Anna’s mother was carried 
from this beautiful home and placed beneath the sod. Anna 
was almost crushed by her sorrow. She now had neither 
father, mother, sister nor brother; but for this kind, loving 
uncle, she would be desolate indeed. 

Six months before Edgar Grannell sailed for Havana 
his only brother died, leaving Anna and her mother in 
straightened circumstances. Edgar at once brought them to 
his home, where they were surrounded with every luxury. But 
Mrs. Grannell was frail; the shock of losing her husband was 
too much for her. Elegant surroundings could not avail to 
keep her tired spirit pent within its house of clay, and it flew 
away in search of fairer climes. 

Mr. Grannell wiped the tears from Anna’s face with his 
handkerchief. 


[120] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘ ‘ Come, dear, cheer up now. Let’s think of other things. 
We are all that is left of the Grannells. We must live for 
each other. I shall always he a bachelor, and you must not 
leave me. When you marry, you must bring your husband 
here and live with your gouty old uncle.” 

“Why Uncle, I can’t imagine you ever old and gouty,” 
smiled Anna, through her tears. “You are handsome as 
Apollo, and you look young enough to be my sweetheart.” 

Mr. Grannell put his arm about his niece, led her into the 
hall and began to ascend the stairs. 

“Where are you taking me. Uncle?” 

“I’m going to my bathroom, to rid myself of this dust. 
I wish you to go to yours, and wash away those tear stains. 
Then go to the library and wait for me. We’ll have time for 
a walk before breakfast.” 

“Mistah Edgah, has you done fohgot ol’ Rich?” came a 
plaintive voice from below. 

Mr. Grannell paused and looked back. 

“Why, there’s my black mammy. Forgotten her? No 
indeed!” He left Anna on the stairs, and, turning, retraced 
his steps. “I’m glad to see you. Mammy. How are you?” 
He patted Aunt Rich’s fat shoulder, as he shook her hand. 
“Are you well?” 

“Yes, suh; thankee, suh! 

“Mistah Edgah, you done writ to Miss Anna dat you 
miss yo’ ol’ mammy when you’s sick. Did you, shoah ’nough, 
honey?” 

“I did. Mammy, I wished for you every day.” 

Aunt Rich took up the corner of her apron, and wuped 
her eyes. ‘ ‘ Honey, is n ’ I nebah gwine to git to kiss my man- 
chil’nomo’?” 

Mr. Grannell bent his head, and the devoted sable lips 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


brusliGd his forehead and cheek. ^‘Bless God; my man-chil’ 
done come home once mo’,” she murmured, as she hobbled 
back to the kitchen. 

Uncle Tom and Aunt Rich were born in the Grannell 
family. They had been the property of Edgar’s father. 
Aunt Rich was Edgar’s nurse. He could remember when no 
pillow was as soft as mammy’s arm, and no voice could sing 
as sweet. After the emancipation the negroes chose to 
remain with their own white folks, as they termed the 
Grannell’s. 

Mr. Grannell found Anna waiting for him in the hall, 
when he descended, a half-hour later. She linked her arm 
through his, and, chattering blithely, led him out upon the 
lawn, around the house, through the garden and the grounds ; 
showing him all that was new, even to a larva’s nest, which 
she had refused to let Uncle Tom burn. 

When the call to breakfast came she exclaimed, with a 
catch of the breath. 

I must tell you something else before we go into 
the house! . . . You remember I wrote you about my music 
teacher, who was with us when mamma died ? ’ ’ 

“Yes.” 

‘You know I wrote you that mamma requested this 
lady to remain with me until your return ” 

“Yes.” 

W^ell, you will meet her at breakfast. I know you will 
like her. Mamma admired her so much. I just love her.” 

“What is her name?” 

“Mrs. Kahree.” 

“Miss Kahree?” 

“No, not miss; she’s a widow, but she’s not old. She’s 
about your age. No — she’s younger than you are, I think. ’ ’ 

[ 122 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


The thick Turkish carpet gave back no sound as Mr. 
Grannell and Anna walked down the hall and entered the 
dining-room. ^ 

Suddenly Edgar Grannell stopped short. There by the 
open casement, the soft breezes stirring her robes, stood his 
long lost Eurydice. The side of her face was turned to him. 
She was watching a little boy and girl playing with a foot¬ 
ball in the adjoining grounds. 

“Mrs. Kahree,” said Anna. 

Gwin turned. A puzzled look came into her eyes as they 
met Mr. GrannelDs face. 

“Permit me to present my Uncle Edgar. Uncle, this is 
my friend and teacher, Mrs. Kahree.” 

Mr. Grannell bowed low, advanced, and their hands met. 

“You have placed me under deep obligations to you, 
Mrs. Kahree, in having bestowed upon Anna your sympathy 
and protection in her bereaved and lonely condition. I 
sincerely thank you, both for myself, and in behalf of those 
who have passed beyond the power to utter their thanks.” 

“I hope you will never refer to the matter again as an 
obligation,” answered Mrs. Kahree. “It has been no sacri¬ 
fice for me to remain in this splendid home; on the other 
hand, I have enjoyed it, and the knowledge that I have been 
a protection and solace to Anna, makes me happy.” 

The trio moved toward the breakfast table, and took 
their seats. Mrs. Kahree behind the coffee urn, Anna at her 
right, and Mr. Grannel at her left. 

“The gods are propitious, after all,” thought Mr. 
Grannell, with a furtive smile. ‘ ‘ This suits me precisely. ’ ’ 

When breakfast was over, Anna took her uncle by the 
arm and hurried him away. He had been gone so long, and 
there were so many things about which to consult him. 

[123] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Mrs. Kahree went to her room, and began preparations 
to return to Mrs. Banks’. She had been in the Grannell 
home four months. Her stay had been saddened by the 
death of her friend, Mrs. Grannell. Otherwise, it had been 
very pleasant. It was so much like the homes she had been 
accustomed to that the thought of leaving it and going back 
to a boarding house brought a deep sigh. She was busy 
removing the contents of her dressing-case to her trunk, 
when Anna knocked at her door. 

‘‘Oh, what are you doing?” Anna cried, as she entered 
the room. “You are not going to leave me, Mrs. Kahree? I 
can not live in this great house without you. I have been 
talking to Uncle about it. He sent me to beg you to come to 
the library ; he would like to arrange with you to remain here 
awhile.” 

“Well, Anna, if my presence will add a ray of sunshine 
to your life I will remain.” 

They descended to the library, where Mr. Grannell 
awaited them. 

It was soon arranged that Mrs. Kahree was to give up all 
her pupils, except Anna, and remain in the Grannell home a 
few months. Mr. Grannell named a salary which was 
so liberal that Gwin refused to accept it, and he was obliged 
to cut it down. 

When Mrs. Kahree arose, to withdraw from the room, 
both Mr. Grannell and Anna requested her to remain, as 
they were to make that a holiday. Mr. Grannell said he 
would not go to his office until the following day. So they 
spent the time until lunch getting better acquainted. 

Mr. Grannell observed in Mrs. Kahree a tendency to 
parry reference to herself and the past. More than once he 
caught her eyes fixed upon him with a far-away questioning 

[124] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


expression, as if her mind was groping in the past for a dim 
thread. His features seemed strangely familiar to her. It 
vexed her that she could not remember where she had seen 
him. She could scarcely prevent herself from gazing at him. 
After lunch they took a long drive into the country. 
Uncle Tom and a footman were upon the box, in brand 
new livery, with shining silver buttons, and nobby silk hats, 
which Mr. Grannell had ordered that morning. 

The “chestnuts” were slick as moles. The way they 
bowed their necks and traveled, accorded with Tom’s notions 
of the fitness of things precisely. 

The sky was slightly overcast; but now and then the 
sun burst forth in a golden fiood. Nature was radiant and 
triumphant in rich fructescence and aflame with garish color. 
Her little people of the wood were busy, each in his own 
small way, as men at commercial marts. Myriads of honey 
bees hung over clover blossoms, singing a union-labor song, 
and filling their wings with sweetness. Bright eyed squirrels 
scurried across the road, up trees, and from limb to limb, 
gathering their winter stores. Here and there a woodpecker 
hammered as laboriously, to secure his tidbit, as does the 
village blacksmith, to earn his. Eingdoves cooed, blackbirds 
called from tree to tree, while anon, gushes of trilling melody 

fell on the air-for the miniature world has its artists, as 

well as its artificers, and they were giving a matinee. ^ 

How Gwin enjoyed it all! Her keen appreciation in¬ 
clined her to reticence. So she permitted Anna and Mr. 

Grannell to do most of the talking. 

After a time they came to a nook gorgeous in flaming 
sumac, bittersweet and woodbine. A tiny brook trailed 
through it, and the grass was embroidered with bright 

leaves. 


[125] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Mr. Grannell called a halt, and they left the carriage 
and wandered awhile. 

They returned, each with a handful of trophies which 
had cost Mr. Grannell snagged trousers, and scratched 
patent leathers. But what an afternoon that was to him! 
and Gwin began to feel as if she had known him all her life. 

They arrived home at six o’clock with fine appetites, 
declaring that they had had the time of their lives. 

After dinner they went to an east porch. A wealth of 
monthly roses, upon which the distilling dew lay heavy, was 
at that side of the house. The air was warm and full of 
perfume, and the moon was climbing a crystalline sky. 

Anna began at once to question her uncle about his 
travels, thus leading him to relate some pleasing incidents. 
But soon he wearied of that, and broke out: 

“I am hungry for music to-night. No doubt it is selfish 
for me to mention it. For I know Mrs. Kahree is tired.” 

Gwin rose immediately, and turned into the house, and 
Mr. Grannell and Anna followed her. 

“You need not hesitate to ask me to play for you, 
whether I am tired or rested, sad or glad,” she smiled back 
over her shoulder, as she sat down at the piano: “I am al¬ 
ways ready. It rests me — carries me away from my petty 
self.” 

“Music must amount to a passion with you, as it does 
with me, ’ ’ he answered. 

“Yes; I revel in it.” 

She was soon proving the statement. 

For awhile she improvised dreamily. Then she wan¬ 
dered into Tannhauser. 

The grand-piano stood in the center of the room, and 
Mr. Grannell sat where he could see the play of psychic lights 

[126] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


which swept her face, from time to time, under the inspira¬ 
tion of the spirit of the great composer. 

He recalled her face as he had studied it that day on 
the train months ago. 

It was changed — not any older, but the agonized ex¬ 
pression was gone; in its stead was something like resigna¬ 
tion. How it had haunted him! — thrilled him, at times, 
with a sensation akin to pain. Illumined, as it now was, he 
thought it the most attractive face he ever had seen. Not 
perfect in features, but wonderful in expressiveness, and in 
a “subtle power to reveal intelligent reciprocation.’’ 

What was the grief that was weighing her down that 
day ? he wondered. It was no ordinary sorrow. Perhaps her 
husband had just died. 

But no; she did not wear black, he remembered that. 
She wore brown — dress, hat, veil, gloves and shoes. He 
had followed too many brown suits for a glimpse of a face 
since to forget how she was dressed. 

“Thank you,” smiled Mr. Grannell, when Mrs. Kahree 
arose from the piano. “I shall trouble you often.” 

“Uncle, you must play now; Mrs. Kahree, he plays 
beautifully.” 

“Mr. Grannell, will you favor us?” 

Mr. Grannell arose, went to the piano, sat down, struck 
the prelude to the “Solo, profugo,” from Martha, and began 
to sing. . . . Such a voice — a marvel of sweetness and 
range and its culture was perfect. 

When he finished and turned, she was leaning forward 
with hands tightly clasped, and an expression of countenance 
which told him of her high appreciation. 

The next morning, after Mr. Grannell had gone to his 
office, Anna and Mrs. Kahree sat upon a bench in the garden 

[127] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


together. Soon Anna began to talk about that which was 
uppermost in her mind — “Uncle Edgar. Poor dear!” she 
bemoaned, “he will never marry. His heart was broken, 
years ago. I am to live here always. When I marry, my 
husband and I are to take care of him when he gets old. 
That’s what Uncle says, and I know he means it.” 

Then followed the pathetic story of Roxey. How he had 
worshipped her, and how, even yet, though it had been eight 
years since she died, none of the family had courage to 
mention her name to him.” 

“I don’t remember her. I was only seven years old 
then. I never heard him allude to the subject. Mamma told 
me about it. But fidelity is characteristic of the Grannells. 
So we have looked upon Uncle Edgar as a confirmed bachelor 
— ever since. We feel as sure that he will never marry as 
if he already had died a bachelor.” 

Days glided into weeks—weeks into months; sweet days 
they were, and to Gwin time seemed to fly with a velocity 
long unknown. Peace and contentment reigned supreme in 
the Grannell home, and the hearts of this trio were daily 
becoming more closely united. The heart of one — all un¬ 
consciously to itself — was being stolen. The image which 
was enshrining itself in her soul’s sanctum had crept in so 
stealthily that, not realizing her danger, she had made no 
effort to resist. She believed the ever present consciousness 
that she was bound to another rendered her heart invulner¬ 
able. She thought Mr. Grannell could never love again. 
His heart was buried with Roxey. If he could love a second 
time, he would not be heart-free now; for he had been 
associated with many of the most beautiful women in the 
world since Roxey’s death. 


[128] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Thus philosophizing, Gwin blinded her own eyes. It 
surprised her that life was now so sweet. 

“I did not think it possible,” she mused, “that the 
world could ever appear so fair to me again. It is because I 
am busy and feel myself essential to the happiness of this 
family. Anna, poor child, would be wretched without me 
and I think Mr. Grannell is happier because I am here. We 
enjoy each other’s music so much. What a pleasing char¬ 
acter he is.” 


[129] 


CHAPTER XIII 


T hus the winter was ushered in, with its long, pleasant 
evenings in the library and the music room, and its 
clear starry nights, during which naked shrubs and trees 
were incrusted with crystalline splendor, and window panes 
were frosted. It is true, Boreas’ hoarse voice sometimes 
roared and shrieked; but it made music for those luxuriously 
sheltered; and there followed crisp, invigorating mornings. 

One evening Anna had gone for a little visit, and six 
o’clock found Mr. Grannell and Mrs. Kahree seated at the 
dinner table alone together. Indoors, all was bright and 
cheerful; without, the wind whistled shrilly. 

As she poured the coffee and lifted her eyes, to pass 
Mr. Grannell a cup, she caught his gaze fixed upon her. 
Something in his eyes caused the hot blood to sweep over her 
face. Her hand trembled, and the coffee slopped into the 
saucer. With a guilty look she drew it back, and gave him 
another saucer. 

“It can not be,” she thought, “it was my imagination. 
But what revelation is this that my fiuttering heart is forcing 
upon me? I thought myself above this. Can it be that I 
really love him? Yes! yes, oh, fool that I am! to have 
stumbled into this! But he doesn’t care for me —in that 
way —and I am glad he doesn’t. It could only end in 
misery for us both. I will overcome this foolishness; I did 
not think I was so weak.” 

In response to her recognition of Edgar Grannell’s 
splendid character a subtle reaction from her past dis- 

[130] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


appointments had, for some time, been effervescing in Mrs. 
Kahree’s mind. Now all the ardor and full trust of her fine 
nature was ready to reveal itself in this new born affection. 
But instead of pandering to it she was putting the question 
to her heart as to whether or not her affection for Edgar 
Grannell had reached a stage which would render her 
strength insufficient to master it. 

The answer came with peculiar clearness, but she re¬ 
fused to hear it, and resolved relentlessly to crush the life 
from this pure offspring of nature; and to listen to no voice, 
however sweet, but that of duty. Yet, in the midst of her 
inexorable decree, her willful inner self defied her in lan¬ 
guage so forcible as to make her tremble for her heroic 
resolution. 

Gwin felt embarassed in Mr. Grannell’s presence for 
the first time. She spoke of Anna — of how quiet and 
lonely the house seemed without her and she vouchsafed a 
commonplace remark, now and then, about the wind, the 
rain, and the possibility of its turning to snow. 

Mr. Grannell’s replies were laconic, and Gwin was 
obliged to exert herself, to keep up a sort of conversation. 
She was not exactly in a talking mood, but, somehow, she 
feared the silence. Though she scarcely knew why. It was 
a relief when dinner was over. 

They arose from the table, Mr. Grannell preceded Gwin 
to the door, and opened it for her to pass out. He expected 
her to go to the library, as usual. In the hall she bade him 
good night, and went upstairs to her room. Entering it, 
she sat down, and again surveyed the situation. 

Despite the fact that her forceful sense of justice and 
right was inducing a denial of the evidence of her own eyes, 
her perverse other self — inspired by the language which 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

his eyes had spoken — was vibrating as if with exquisite 
harmonies. 

While she was bringing every argument to bear, to 
persuade herself that Mr. Grannell could not possibly care 
for her, except as a friend, the fingers of her right hand 
were drumming an accompaniment upon the back of her left 
hand to a psychic song —a song sweet and joyous. When 
she discovered it, the effect was dynamic: 

She sprang to her feet, went to a window, and stood for 
awhile with her forehead pressed to the cool glass, looking 
into the opalescent light of the storm-swept street. She 
determined to put the matter from her mind. 

A servant knocked at her door, and gave her a scrap of 
paper. She unfolded it and read: 

“ ‘Mrs. Kahree: 

Will you kindly come to the library a few 

minutes? I wish to speak to you. 

Edgar.’ ” 

W^ith the note in her hand, she descended to the library 
and knocked at the door. 

Mr. Grannell opened it, bowed, and silently motioned 
her to a chair. 

She sat down and waited, winding the note over one 
finger, then over another. 

He seemed Jo be in deep thought. With folded arms, 
he walked back and forth through the room several times. 

“He behaves strangely,” she cogitated. “What if I 
read correctly, after all ? But no ! ” Gwin’s foot patted the 
carpet emphatically. She felt indignant that her mind had 
suggested the idea again. ' 


[132] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Finally, Mr. Grannell paused, drew a chair and sat 
down opposite her. He looked pale, and her mental comment 
was: ‘ ‘ Something is troubling him and he’s going to tell me 
about it. He remarked to me yesterday that the stress and 
strain of politics was especially nerve racking just now.” 

Suddenly Mr. Grannell leaned forward and placed a 
hand over each of hers. 

“Mrs. Kahree, I love you — love you with all my soul. 
Will you be my wife?” 

She threw his hands off, and flushed scarlet: 

“Hush! for Heaven^s sake! I am already a wife.” 

Edgar Grannell’s face reddened, then grew pale, and 
his eyes flashed wrathfully: 

“Why did you not tell me this months ago?” 

Both arose to their feet. 

“I had a right to know this. Why have you kept me in 
ignorance?” 

“Because I failed to recognize your right to enlighten¬ 
ment. I could not foresee this. I did not think it could make 
any possible difference to you whether I was married or 
single; — and you did not ask me. If you had, I could have 
made no explanation — I can make none now. All I can say 
is, that the man I once loved — still love, in a way, is gone— 
never to return to me. But my conscience is clear. I never 
intentionally wronged him, neither have I intentionally 
wronged you. ’ ’ 

They stood an impressive minute silently looking into 
each other’s eyes — each heart beating wildly — each spirit 
transflxed before the gaze of the other. 

“May I ask you one question?” inquired Mr. Grannell. 

“As many as you wish.” 


[133] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Are you the wife of Judge A. J. Kahree, of Kansas 
City?” 

“Yes.” 

Gwin turned toward the door and paused with a hand 
upon the knob. There was anguish depicted in those two 
faces. Gwin turned hers away, that he might not read it, and 
he believed himself the only sufferer. 

As Gwin stood there, her mind ran backward over her 
months of association with Mr. Grannell, and she began to 
realize that her manner toward him had been encouraging. 
How was he to know that it was owing to her blindness, and 
to her conviction that the sorrows of the past had fortified 
them both against danger? He blamed her — that was evi¬ 
dent. It was excruciating to think that she had descended a 
degree in his esteem. 

“Mr. Grannell.” Her voice was faint and tremulous. 
She scarcely knew why she had uttered his name, not because 
she had any thing of importance to communicate, she could 
say nothing to mend matters. But she dreaded to leave him 
in this state of mind. “I will return to the boarding house 
early to-morrow,” she finished, not being able, in her con¬ 
fusion, to find anything else to say. 

There was a sarcastic ring in his voice as he replied: 

“Your idea is profoundly philosophical. You proceed 
to lock the stable since the horse is stolen.” 

She turned half around and gazed at him in amazement. 
This was so unlike him. 

He continued in the same withering tone: 

“You are a woman of superior intelligence. We have 
lived under the same roof for months. Yet you have failed 
to discover that I have been worshiping you every minute 

t'34] 


I 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

of the time. Do you think your going away now will relieve 
the situation?” 

Gwin turned to the door again, to hide the grieved ex^ 
pression in her face. 

'‘This may seem a trivial matter to you — blasting the 
spring of hope in the heart of a fellow being,” he went on 
mercilessly. . . . “Yes — go! and carry with you the knowl¬ 
edge that one who believed you innocent as an angel of light 
carries a wound inflicted by you — a most cruel one.” 

His words cut her to the quick. She wheeled, and, open¬ 
ing her eyes, now full of strange opal lights, she looked him 
steadily in the face. A sweep of dignity lifted her chin and 
brought her to her full height, while a proud expression of 
conscious innocence spoke from every feature of her coun¬ 
tenance. 

“Mr. Grannell, I never suspected, until this minute, that 
you were capable of injustice and unkindness. I thought that 
of all men you would be the last to misjudge me.” 

Gwin’s emotions overcame her. She sank to a chair, and 
covered her face with her hands. 

He stood gazing down upon her, his arms folded, his 
eyes flashing, and his proud lips wreathed with a smile of 
scorn; yet noble in appearance as a Greek god. The thought 
that he, Edgar Grannell, who prided himself upon his stain¬ 
less record and pure principles, had for years been carrying 
in his heart the image of another man’s wife exasperated him. 
The consciousness that the image was indelibly stamped there 
was quite beyond endurance. Like his father, Adam, he was 
trying to make the woman shoulder the blame. 

He had been obliged to listen to too many disgraceful 
divorce tirades in court to have much respect for the average 

[135] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


divorcee. He was especially prejudiced against young ‘‘grass- 
widows/’ and inclined to view them as adventuresses. 

He had been so wrought up he failed to consider that Mrs. 
Kahree’s methods were diametrically opposed to those of that 
class, in every respect; and that it was the splendor in her 
that caused her reserve and fine reticence toward him upon a 
subject w^hich a woman of a coarser nature unhesitatingly 
would have communicated to him. His astute mind soon 
reached the discriminating point, however. The angry light 
left his eyes, the scorn fled from his lips, and, heartsick, he 
began to pace the floor again. 

Again Mrs. Kahree rose to leave the room. 

Mr. Grannell swung around and paused. This woman 
whom he had intended to keep near him always; of whom he 
had dreamed for months and years; whom, although another 
man’s wife, he loved devotedly, and whom he had long looked 
upon almost as his betrothed; was about to leave the shelter 
of his roof forever. While his heart strings seemed strained 
to the point of snapping, he had no wish to prolong the inter¬ 
view, nor to continue her acquaintance. 

She now stood before him in calm defiance. She had no 
apologies to offer; and if his respect for her depended upon 
her telling him her storj^, and disclosing Judge Kahree’s sins, 
then he would have to go on thinking of her as he now did. 
She would not injure the man she once called husband, even 
to justify herself with the one she loved best. 

There was no effeminacy in Edgar Grannell’s nature. He 
was .strong, mentally and physically, but as he stood gazing 
into her face, with those wonderful eyes looking into his, he 
felt the tension of his nerves relaxing; his wildly beating 
heart growing calm, while a reposeful feeling stole over him — 
a sort of mesmeric sensation, he thought. 

[136] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘Good night, Mr. Grannell,said a voice that sounded 
far away, and with a cool bow, Mrs. Kahree swept from his 
presence. 

Edgar Grannell passed his hand over his brow. He felt 
half dazed. 

“What a power of invincible fascination that woman 
possesses,” he mused. “I am inclined to believe it partly 
hypnotic. But why has fate again imposed this suffering 
upon me ? If I can not have her, why could I not have lived 
my life without meeting her?” 

Gwin had no knowledge of hypnotism. Mr. GrannelEs 
imagination was playing him a trick. It is said, 

“The lunatic, the lover, and the poet 
Are of imagination all compact.” 

“His fancy made pictures which were not.” He thought 
she had little feeling for his suffering and was inclined to 
treat it lightly; and the peculiar state of his mind at the 
moment when their eyes met, as both supposed, for the last 
time; when all the strength of her intense nature was shining 
in her face; and she was rapt in that absorbing flame which 
he had kindled; which he saw and felt; but did not under¬ 
stand; this, with her magnetic personality, set in motion a 
force overwhelming to both; and Mr. Grannell was in a state 
of mind to be anything but reasonable. He jumped at con¬ 
clusions ; thought her cold and cruel, and imputed her agita¬ 
tion to mere embarrassment. But, silent to the last, she 
heroicly turned away, and with a heart breaking for his woes 
as well as for her own, she left him. 

Mrs. Kahree expected to leave Mr. Grannell’s house the 
next morning as soon as it was light. She packed her trunk 

[ 137 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


before retiring. She arose at daybreak and dressed herself. 
When she opened her room door, she found the following 
note: — 

“Mrs. Kahree: 

“Please remain here a few days until I dispose of Anna. 
I purpose leaving the city soon. 

“ Edgar. 

So she must meet him again. 

“Well,” she whispered, “one more of life’s discomfits — 
a small one this time.” 

She turned into her room, closed the door, sat down before 
a window with her elbows upon the sill, her fingers interlaced 
and tightly clasped, and she sat thus until the call to break¬ 
fast came. 

As she started to breakfast she met Anna in the hall. 
They went down stairs and entered the dining room together. 
Mr. Grannell came in just behind them. 

As they sat down at the table Anna looked at one, then 
at the other. 

“Well, what has happened to uncle and Mrs. Kahree? 
You both look as if you had been sick a month. If you had 
walked the floor all night, you wouldn’t look more like ghosts. 
What have you two been doing? I shall not go away again 
and leave you alone together.” 

The housekeeper, Mrs. Sims, who wms passing through 
the room, turned and gazed at the couple curiously. 

“They’ve quarreled,” was her mental comment; “he’s 
dead in love with her, that’s plain as a toadstool on a stump.” 

The pallor instantly left the two faces under scrutiny, 
and both grew very red as they felt the weight of Mrs. Sims’ 
eyes. 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Anna looked innocent, but she was laughing in her sleeve. 
She thought, like Mrs. Sims, that they had had some little 
misunderstanding which would soon be corrected. 

Mr. Grannell was made glad at the moment by the dis¬ 
covery that no napkin was at his plate, which permitted him 
to change the subject, and administer a gentle reproof to Mrs. 
Sims. He told her he hoped she would look after the servants 
a little closer and not let things like that occur. 

Some time in the afternoon he summoned Anna to the 
library, and told her that he was going to Europe, and that 
he purposed placing her in a boarding school, and closing the 
house; leaving Mrs. Sims to look after the servants and care 
for things. 

This was a shock to Anna, for she was a home lover. But, 
for her uncle’s sake, she strove to be brave — in his presence. 

As soon as he left the house, she ran up to Mrs. Kahree’s 
room, threw herself on her knees, and, burying her face in 
her friend’s lap, she took a real girl-cry. 

After a few minutes she lifted her face, and brushed away 
the tears. 

‘ ‘ I feel better now. I will try to bear this cheerfully for 
poor uncle’s sake. . . . Mrs. Kahree, what’s the matter with 
him ?” 

Gwin scarcely knew what reply to make. 

‘‘Don’t ask me, dear;” she answered, after a little hesi¬ 
tation ; “ I can not tell you. ’ ’ 

Anna’s eyes rested upon her friend’s face scrutinizingly 
a moment; but she said no more. 

In a few days the Grannell home was closed, and this 
loving trio separated by hundreds of miles. One was tossing 
on the ocean, each moment widening the distance between him 
and native land. The other two, separated, also, heart sick- 

[ 139 ] 


I 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

and home sick, knelt each night and prayed for the beloved 
wanderer and for each other. In the petition of one the name 
of another wanderer was tearfully whispered, and Heaven’s 
choicest blessings were supplicated for him. 


I 


[140] 


CHAPTER XIV 


O NE day, several month’s after Mrs. Kahree’s return to 
her boarding house, John appeared at the door of her 
room, and handed her a card. It bore a name unfamiliar to 
her. She went down stairs immediately. As she entered the 
parlor, an elderly man arose. 

“Is this Mrs. Gwin Vauce Kahree?” 

“Yes.” 

“ I am attorney in a divorce suit for Judge A. J. Kahree, 
against Mrs. Gwin Vauce Kahree.” 

Gwin was so surprised and shocked that she felt faint. 
She put out a hand to the back of a chair, to steady herself. 

The lawyer took a document from his pocket, which he 
proceeded to read to her. It was a notice of Judge Kahree’s 
application for divorce. He also had a letter from the judge, 
offering her liberal alimony, which she refused. 

“Well!” exclaimed the attorney, looking at her in won¬ 
der, “you are an exceptional woman. It is not common for 
them to refuse the money, let the provocation be what it will; 
in fact, this is an amazing innovation, the first case of the 
kind I ever had.” 

“Judge Kahree is generous and noble-hearted; it is like 
him to make this offer; but I can not accept it; I have no 
claim on him or his money.” 

“Then you will not appear against him?” 

“No; I have no evidence to offer against him. His charge 
against me, that of desertion, is just; but I ask for no divorce, 

[141] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


and shall remain true to him, until death severs the tie which 
binds us.” 

The attorney continued to stare at Mrs. Kahree. Pres¬ 
ently a quizzical expression crossed his face. 

“Doesn’t it sound a little paradoxical that you deserted 
a man of whom you entertain so exalted an opinion ? ’ ’ 

“Perhaps,” was the unsatisfactory reply. 

“The judge tells me he is to be married, as soon as he 
secures a divorce,” said the lawyer. He saw a look of pain 
cross Mrs. Kahree’s face. 

“Oh,” she cried out, “it can not be! Isn’t there some 
mistake ? ’ ’ 

“Read for yourself. Madam,” and he handed her Judge 
Kahree’s letter. 

She read it and returned it to him without comment. 

“Inasmuch as you do not want the judge yourself, I am 
at a loss to understand why you object to letting some other 
woman have him?” smiled the lawyer. 

“I think I may assume that both Judge Kahree and I 
are endowed with average intelligence. To us a vow is sacred. 
We took our marriage vows solemnly and understandingly. 
We took each other for better or for worse. If we have found 
it for worse, does high principle offer us recourse ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I suppose you are a Roman Catholic, and by high prin¬ 
ciple yoii mean religious dogma ? ’ ’ smiled the lawyer. 

“No, I am not a Roman Catholic, but a vow means some¬ 
thing to me.” 

“I beg pardon, madam, but shall an individual because 
he has unfortunately formed a mesalliance, — been duped and 
deceived into loving that which, too late, he learns is un¬ 
lovable, — be doomed to a life without love? I think the 

[142] 


t 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


individual conscience should be supreme dictator in the 
matter. ’ ’ 

“Suppose the individual has no conscience. Conscience 
is not innate. It is taught principle. But it is useless for 
you and me to discuss the subject,” said Gwin, turning to 
leave his presence. 

“Yes; I think it is,” he assented. “I am glad those old 
straight-jacket notions have been relegated to the past. I 
don’t envy you all the pleasure you will get out of life, if 
you continue to adhere to your present principles, ’ ’ he laughed 
back, as he bowed himself out of the room. 


\ 


[143] 


CHAPTER XV 


O N a dark, foggy morning, in London, two men, hurrying 
along Bond street in opposite directions, collided. 
Neither was seriouslj^ injured, however. Each begged pardon. 
Instantly, their hands met in a warm clasp and they spoke 
simultaneously. 

“Edgar Grannell.’’ 

“Arrel Kahree.” 

“What a delightful surprise!” exclaimed the judge. 
“Superlatively so!” declared Mr. Grannell. “But it 
didn’t lack much of being a tragedy. Happily, it ended in 
comedy. I shall never forget the expression on your face —■ 
with your hat knocked awry — when you recognized me,” 
he laughed. “No doubt my appearance was equally 
amusing. ’ ’ 

“I don’t know. I was too amazed to see the funny side 
of it. But, come, let’s find shelter from the dampness. The 
fog is turning to a drizzle, and the wind cuts. My hotel is 
but a block away.” 

The judge linked his arm through that of his friend, and 
turned back up the street. Soon they were comfortably en¬ 
sconced before a bright fire. 

‘ ‘ Edgar, I am so glad to see you — I can scarcely express 
my delight. When did you arrive?” 

“Two days ago.” 

“When did you leave home?” 

“One year ago.” 


[ 144 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Indeed! I took a flying trip to the United States last 
May. ’ ’ 

“You purpose making London your permanent home, 
then ? ’ ’ inquired Mr. Grannell. 

“Yes; all my interests are now transferred; I presume 
I shall remain here.” 

Mr. Grannell would have enjoyed hearing his friend speak 
further of personal matters. But the judge changed the sub¬ 
ject. 

“The United States has some serious questions confront¬ 
ing her to-day. There is the Trust, with its powerful cor¬ 
ruption fund, the Mormon question, the labor question, the 
Negro question, the public school question, the divorce ques¬ 
tion. ’ ’ 

“Yes; those are grave questions. Each will have a mighty 
bearing on human progress,” answered Mr. Grannell. “I am 
an optimist through and through. But the fear sometimes 
crosses my mind that Lord Macauley’s prediction will yet 
overtake our nation. You remember he said, ‘Either some 
C^sar or Napoleon will seize the reins of government with a 
strong hand or your republic will be as fearfully plundered 
and laid waste by barbarians in the twentieth century as the 
Roman empire was in the fifth, with this difference: that 
your Huns and Vandals will have been engendered within- 
your own country, and by your own institutions.’” 

At this moment a door leading to an adjoining room was 
softly opened, and there appeared upon the threshold one of 
the handsomest women Mr. Grannell had ever beheld. 

She evidently was surprised that Judge Kahree was not 
alone. With a slight bow, she stepped back and gently closed 
the door. Mr. Grannell glanced at the judge, who sat thought¬ 
fully gazing into the fire and had not observed her. Who 

[145] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


could she be? and what was she doing in his suite of rooms? 

“There is nothing impossible in that prediction/’ ad¬ 
mitted the judge. “In each of those questions is involved a 
crisis if they are not handled judiciously. 

“Are you married, Edgar?” 

“No; and it isn’t likely I ever shall be.” 

“You haven’t learned, then, that 

‘Of all the tyrants that the world affords 
Our own affections are the fiercest lords’.” 

“Well, — yes; — ” smiled Mr. Grannell. “To be hon¬ 
est, Arrel, I have. I learned that young. Death robbed me 

once. I had a second experience a year ago.With a 

grass-widow,” he added after a minute, with a laugh. 

Judge Kahree smiled. 

“A grass-widow?” 

“A grass-widow,” repeated Mr. Grannell. 

Here the clock struck one, and a couple of servants came 
in with luncheon. 

Soon the judge and Mr. Grannell were seated at the 
table. As they ate, they conversed upon various topics. But 
that of the grass-widow was not again alluded to. 

“How long do you purpose remaining in London?” en¬ 
quired the judge, as Mr. Grannell arose to conclude his visit. 

It is uncertain. I am here on a business commission of 
a political character. I have partially transacted it. I can 

complete it in a few hours. So it is optional with me how 
long I tarry. 

“That’s good. We will consider the hour of your de¬ 
parture indefinitely postponed, then. We shall expect you to 

[146] 



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dine with us to-morrow, and remember you must be a daily 
visitor here. 

Mr. Grannell thanked the judge and hade him good¬ 
evening, wondering if “we” would include the charming 
woman of whom he had a glimpse. 

‘ ‘ Arrel is a good fellow, ^ ’ he mused, as he wended his way 
back to his hotel. “I wonder what could have been the 
trouble ? ’ ’ 

The next day was more dark and dismal than ever. 

At five o’clock, Mr. Grannell arrived at Judge Kahree’s 
hotel. The judge met him with a cordial hand clasp, and 
again they seated themselves before a cheerful fire. 

They talked of old friends; old times; old associations; 
politics — home and foreign. Each told the other of his finan¬ 
cial prospects. The judge again incidentally referred to his 
recent trip to the United States. 

“I wonder what could have taken him back?” thought 
Mr. Grannell. ‘ ‘ I wonder if he went to see her ? It seems to 
me they were well mated. What could have been the trouble t 
He is a fine fellow; intelligent, honorable, handsome, rich and 
generous. I can not understand it.” 

When dinner was announced. Judge Kahree arose and 
knocked at the door behind which the beautiful vision of the 
day before had disappeared. It was opened immediately, and 
she stood before them. 

“Mrs. Kahree, this is my friend, the Honorable Edgar 
Grannell, of St. Louis, Missouri; Mrs. Kahree, Mr. Grannell.” 

Edgar Grannell was dumb with astonishment for a few 
seconds. He never before had had a hint that Judge Kahree 
was divorced. 

“Why — why — Judge — this is most surprising!” he 

[147] 


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stammered; “how long since you assumed this happy respon¬ 
sibility ? ^ ’ 

“Six months, I think; isn’t it?” he inquired of Eose, 
who colored, as she assented with a slight inclination of the 
head, at the same time she gave Mr. Grannell her hand. 

“How exquisite she is!” thought Mr. Grannell. “No 
doubt he will be happy this time.” Then he recalled Gwin’s 
words: ‘ The man I once loved — still love in a way. ’ “ It’s 
too much for me,” he breathed with a sigh, as he and the 
judge followed Mrs. Kahree to the elevator. 

The dinner was served in the public dining-room. While 
the viands were all a connoisseur could ask, Mr. Grannell ate 
little. The knowledge he had just gained was too much for 
his appetite. The woman he loved was no longer another 
man’s wife. During the remainder of the evening, he was so 
preoccupied mentally with his own affairs that he had some 
difficulty in keeping up his end of the conversation. He took 
his departure early, glad to be alone with his own thoughts 
and plans. 

The fog was settling, and a full moon was pouring a 
stream of argent lights into the mists that hung over the 
Thames as he walked back to his hotel, which was but a few 
blocks from that occupied by the Kahrees. What a change 
supreme was in the face and the song of nature since he 
passed this way a few hours before. Then, he was listening 
to a voice which spoke of cold realities. Now, he was dream¬ 
ing of possibilities in the near future which might fructify 
into a fullness of all his hopes. 

Mr. Grannell found it impossible to close his eyes in 
slumber that night, until after midnight, and morning’s 
earliest sparrow found him awake. His first thought on wak¬ 
ing, was of a home-bound steamer. 

[148] 


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He learned, on investigation, that the vessel he wished 
to take would not sail for a fortnight. This was a long time 
for a man to be patient, under such circumstances. 

He spent much time with Judge Kahree, and he could 
not help seeing that the relationship between the judge and 
his wife was not very close. It seemed to Mr. Grannell that 
they studiously avoided each other, and he could see that 
Judge Kahree’s heart did not belong to Rose. Yet it was 
clear that she idolized him. She was so diffident in his pres¬ 
ence that she trembled if he touched her, which he never 
seemed to do, except by accident — and she blushed at his 
slightest glance. Her beautiful velvety eyes, when turned 
upon him, seemed always pleading. Mr. Grannell observed 
that they occupied separate suites of rooms, and that they 
spent little time in each other’s society. The judge, obviously, 
avoided allusion to his marriages; so, while the subject would 
have been highly entertaining to Mr. Grannell, under the cir¬ 
cumstances, he refrained from reference to it. But there was 
sufficient suggestion of mystery in it to pique his curiosity. 

The last day of the Honorable Edgar Grannell’s stay in 
London had arrived. He was to sail for home the following 
morning. He had dined with the Kahrees, as usual, and he 
and the judge were seated alone together in their last colloquy. 

Judge Kahree was Mr. Grannell’s senior by several years, 
but they had known each other from Edgar’s earliest recol¬ 
lection. They had drifted apart before the judge’s marriage 
with Gwin and had not met since, until they met in London. 
Naturally, their minds reverted to the past, on this their last 
evening together. After an hour’s desultory conversation, the 
judge remarked: 

“My life — since I last saw you, Edgar — has been a 

[149] 


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weary interval filled with vain hopes and crude joys. Now 
it is like a legend that is told in fantastic hieroglyphics. ’ ’ 

“Why, Arrel, I don’t understand. You are now, and 
always have seemed to be, one of the most happy, prosperous 
of men, a favorite of fortune — in every respect.” 

^ ‘ Such may be my outward appearance, but I have failed 
utterly in all that is worth while. I started wrong, I had an 
idea, like many other young men, that it is not necessary 
for a man to be chaste. Of course an honorable man would 
be true to his marriage vow — so I shaped my course ac¬ 
cordingly. 

“After sowing a lot of wild oats, I married one of the 
sweetest girls that ever drew breath. I married her knowing 
that I was not and never could hope to become her ideal. But 
I deceived her into believing that I was. My insane love deter¬ 
mined me to marry her and risk her ever learning the truth. 
She learned it sooner than I expected, in a way I little an¬ 
ticipated. ’ ’ 

Mr. Grannell looked puzzled. “I don’t quite understand 
yet, Arrel.” 

“I was her ideal physically and intellectually, but not 
morally.” 

“Yes, yes; I see!” 

“She had become interested in the new attitude women 
are taking toward purity in the marital relation. She had set 
up a standard of virtue in her mind for the man she would 
marry. She was modest and womanly. 

“Feeling enervated one sultry evening, I took one glass 
of wine too much and immediately set out to visit her. Soon 
after reaching her presence I proceeded to make a blunder¬ 
ing remark which awoke me to a realization that I was slightly 
inebriated. For the remark elicited from her the question — 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Are 3^011 morally pure ? ’ By evasion I gave her the im¬ 
pression that I was.I don’t know why I am telling you 

this.” 

Judge Kahree rose and took several turns through the 
room before he resumed. He little suspected how deeply his 
friend was moved by what he had said. 

After several minutes he paused in front of Mr. Grannell. 
Then he rehearsed his sorrowful story once more. 

‘‘Those experiences were bitter,” he added, “but they 
made a radical change in me. I had been viewing society and 
social life through conventionalism’s perspective. Society 
did not object. I was continually flattered and petted by 
women who assumed an ignorance the^" did not possess, and 
I knew it — women who professed to be Christians — leaders 
in the Church.” 

The judge turned and resumed his pace back and forth 
through the room. 

For a long time Mr. Grannell sat buried in his own 
thoughts and reminiscences. At last he shook himself out. 

“Judge, would you like to hear my story? Possibly you 
maj^ find it not entirely uninteresting. Sit down, and I will 
relate it.” 

The judge sat down with a listless air, and threw his feet 
upon a chair in front of him. 

He had started in to tell Mr. Grannell the whole story 
up to date. But when his mind began to dwell in the terrible 
past, he lost himself completely, and forgot all about Kose. 

Mr. Grannell began with a minute description of a lady 

he had met on an October morning, in the year 18 -, on an 

east-bound train between Kansas City and St. Louis. He 
told of the strange fascination she possessed for him; the in¬ 
delible impression she had left upon his mind; of his futile 

[iSi] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


efforts to shake it off and persuade himself that he was unwise 
to permit his mind to dwell upon one of whom he knew 
nothing. 

By this time, the judge was all attention. 

Mr. Grannell described his meeting with her at the 
church; his determination to learn who she was; and his 
failure to find her. 

He told of his call to Havana; his return; his unexpected 
introduction to her in his own home; and how — believing 
her to be a widow — he fell in love with her. 

The judge was upon his feet again, pacing the floor. 

Mr. Grannell gave a graphic description of the scene in 
his library, of his declaration of love, and her repulsion of 
him, and how, in desperation, he had retaliated with angry 
sarcasm. 

‘‘This is why I am a wanderer to-day. The image of 
your wife has been standing between me and the sunlight of 
heaven. But now she is free and I am going home, to try to 
win her. I thought at one time I had her affection. I thought 
I read it in her face. But I was mistaken. ’ ’ 

Judge Kahree turned and extended his hand to Mr. Gran¬ 
nell. He did not speak at once. When he did, his voice was 
husky. 

“You are doomed to disappointment, my friend. She will 
never marry while my head is above the sod. She will never 
do it. Mark my words! I know whereof I speak. ’ ’ 

Mr. Grannell changed color. 

‘ ‘ Why not ? She is free, isn’t she ? ’ ^ 

“From a legal view-point, yes; but she is opposed to 
second marriage until death or infldelity has cancelled the first 
contract. ’ ’ 

Mr. Grannell was surprised at that remark. 

[152] 


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“But your remarriage constitutes adultery, according to 
Bible teaching,’’ he persisted, “and liberates her.” 

The judge shook his head slowly; but offered no explan¬ 
ation, and Mr. Grannell added nothing further. 

Mr. Grannell consulted his watch, and arose. 

“I must say good-bye, Arrel, it is past midnight.” 

The hands of the friends met, and for a minute they 
looked deep into each other’s eyes. 

“Good-bye, Edgar, and God bless you. If I could die 

tonight and leave her free I would do it.There is little 

to live for now, and you are the very man for her.” 

These words confirmed Mr. Grannell’s opinion that Judge 
Kahree did not love Rose. 

Mr. Grannell’s return trip was stormy and tedious. He 
felt a thrill of pleasure when his feet again touched terra firma 
in his native land. His heart leaped within him at the thought 
of her to whom every hour was bringing him nearer and whom 
he felt that he now had a right to try to win. 

Judge Kahree had given him a deeper insight into Gwin’s 
character. He knew now that he had wronged her, that she 
was too true to trifle or deceive intentionally. 

But how would she receive him ? The judge’s words often 
reiterated themselves in his mind: ‘She will never marry 
while my head is above the sod; I know whereof I speak. ’ 

“But she has kept her vow to the letter,” reasoned Mr. 
Grannell, in soliloquy. “I believe that the law of God applies 
only to the guilty party, and, under the circumstances, she 
would be exempt. She can not be held responsible for the 
deception which was practiced on her; neither was she respon¬ 
sible for the divorce. According to the judge’s own state¬ 
ment, he was the offending party all the way through. The 
laws of the land have annulled the marriage, and I believe 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


that, so far as she is concerned, divine law is repealed. If I 
can succeed in winning her affection, I think I can make her 
see it.’’ 

Mr. Grannell trembled at the thought of what might be 
before him. Perhaps, having once loved and been so cruelly 
deceived, she had lost faith in man. He once believed there 
was no such thing as second love; he had thought his heart 
as impervious as stone; but it had revived, and, “instead of 
losing, it had gained fire. ” If he could love twice, why could 
not she ? 

On a fine October evening, Mr. Grannell arrived at home. 
He partook of his dinner en solitaire with the relish which 
good health and an optimistic heart never fail to bestow. How 
delightful, after so long an absence, to find himself again 
basking in the glow of his own chandelier! 

There followed an interval of mental rambling in a 
vaguely complex realm. Then he left the table, crossed the 
wide vista of hall, with its blue crystal dome ablaze with stars, 
each an electric light, and, crossing to a massive door — a 
replica of several others which opened into the hall — he 
turned the bronze knob and entered an oriental room fur¬ 
nished as if for an Asiatic prince. The highly polished floor 
was covered with a priceless Eastern rug, the walls tapestried; 
couches, tables, and windows, were draped with purple velvet 
embroidered with gold, and upon the long, massive, heavily 
carved mantle, were vases and cups of rare workmanship, and 
curios from far distant lands. Throwing himself into a tufted 
chair, Mr. Grannell lit a cigar of delicate fragrance, placed 
his feet upon a teak wood stool in front of him, and began 
pensively to puff. 

Suddenly a rich soprano voice in song, accompanied by 

[154] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


his own piano, struck his ear. He sprang to an upright posi¬ 
tion and listened almost breathlessly: 

“ ‘I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls 
With vassals and serfs at my side ; 

And of all who assembled within those walls 
That I was the hope and the pride. 

I had riches too great to count; could boast 
Of a high, ancestral name; 

But I also dreamt which pleased me most 
That you loved me still the same; 

That you loved me still the same.’ ” 

Ah, that voice! It was the one voice which could stir 
him to the heart’s core. He rose and crossed the hall to the 
music-room. She was singing the second verse. The door 
was ajar; he pushed it open slightly. 

‘‘ ‘That you loved me still the same: 

That you loved me still the same’.” 

Who was in her mind as she sang? The trembling 
pathos in her voice assured Mr. Grannell that she was apply¬ 
ing those lines to some one. Was it Judge Kahree. He was 
a man whom it would be hard for a woman to forget; and 
he still loved her that was clear. 

After she had finished the song, she took up a photo¬ 
graph which Mr. Grannell now observed had stood upon the 
music rack in front of her: 

“Dear one, queer thoughts, which seem to me like sacri¬ 
lege, surge in my mind to-night. Does virtue forever lie in 
self-abnegation? It is madness, I know, but I love you! I 
love you!” and she kissed the picture twice 

[155] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Ah! whose picture is that?” and this strong man of 
clear conception — statesman — diplomatist — does not sus¬ 
pect, but stands trembling before an imaginary shadow. 

“Arrel’s,” he concluded. “I might have known it. 
She told me she loved him and he worships her.” 

Gwin switched off the light and left the room. A minute 
later, he heard the street door close behind her. 

Not knowing of his return, she had gone to the Grannell 
home in answer to a request from Anna, who had written 
her that she was homesick. She asked for a box of flowers 
from the home conservatory. 

A maid, who had answered Gwin’s ring, said, as she 
opened the door to her: 

“Mistah Edgah done come home.” 

Gwin understood her to say he was going to come. So 
she answered merely. “Is he?” and passed on. 

After she had cut the flowers, and had ordered them 
packed and sent to Anna; as usual, when her heart was full 
to overflowing, she had sought the piano — his piano — 
which seemed to sing to her in mystic undertones. 

Mr. Grannell felt his way to a switch, and turned on the 
light, then he turned to the picture, and lo 1 he stood face to 
face with his own handsome image. 

He had practiced repressing the emotional side of his 
nature until he was absolute master of himself, when he 
chose. But he now made no effort at self-control. Jot was 
supreme, and he gave it full sway. He stood upon the 
spot where Gwin had just stood, his eyes aglow with mystic 
light, flne as empyrean fire. He opened his arms wide and 
clasped them together in fervid anticipation of holding her 
to his heart. “Ah, the time is near when she will be mine 1” 
he whispered. With clenched hands, his arms straightened 

[156] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


themselves rigid at his sides and he walked the length of the 
room and hack twice. Then, with smiling lips and relaxed 
tension, he returned to the Oriental room, took up the cigar 
he had abandoned at the sound of Gwin’s voice, and again 
sat down in the tufted chair. 

Deep midnight, brooding over the city, found him still 
in the Oriental room. No heaviness retarded the hours, for 
the bleak shadows of uncertainity were all alight with the 
flame of his ardor. But Edgar Grannell was yet to learn — 
to its fullest — how sweet pleasure is, after pain! 


[ 157 ] 


CHAPTER XVI 


T he next morning Mr. Grannell called at the home of 
Mrs. Banks, which was only a block from his home now. 
This was where she had moved soon after his experience at 
the church. She had risen to the dignity of mistress of a 
high class boarding house, in an aristocratic neighborhood. 

A great radiance flashed into Mrs. Kahree’s mind, when, 
in answer to a knock at the door of her studio, she opened it 
and found John there, bowing and scraping, with a silver tray 
in his hand upon which lay Edgar Grannell’s card. She took 
the card, closed the door, and sank to a chair. Her heart 
beat wildly. It was several seconds before she could calmly 
descend to the parlor. 

She found Mr. Grannell standing with his back to the 
door, examining an etching which hung upon the wall. He 
turned, when he heard her step, and came to meet her. He 
watched the color come and go in her face as he clasped her 
hand. It caused the smile on his lips to broaden to a grin. 

She observed his satisfled expression, and that the lines 
of disappointment and sorrow which his face wore when last 
she saw him were all smoothed out. He looked almost bovish 
now, and there was an exultant light in his eyes. “Thank 
God,” she thought, “he has conquered; it is all over.” But 
she caught herself in the act of sighing, and a sick feeling 
was at her heart. . . . These hearts — how they deceive us! 
Verily, the spirit was willing, but the flesh — ah the flesh ! 

“I am delighted to meet you again, Mrs. Kahree,” de¬ 
clared Mr. Grannell, refusing to be seated. “I have called 

[158] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


on a business errand. I have just received a letter from 
Anna’s teacher. Anna is not at all well. I have telegraphed 
her to come home. She will arrive to-morrow. I came to 
ask you to do me the favor of coming to my house and stay¬ 
ing while she remains. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Kahree looked away and did not answer. 

He resumed: 

“It is cruel to allow Anna to stay there with no white 
person in the house, except the housekeeper and myself. 
You are her choice, above all others.” 

Still she was silent. 

“You need not hesitate, because of the past. I wish to 
say, right here that I am sorry for my injustice and cruelty 
that night. Forgive me.” 

He was still holding her hand. 

There was a hurt look in her clear eyes as they lifted 
and swept his face. She could detect nothing there but joy, 
joy, no sadness — no regret. She drew her hand from his. 
“He has ceased to love me, and learned to love another,” she 
thought. But, she instantly chided herself. “Of what am I 
thinking? Would I have it otherwise? I—another man’s 
wife?” Despite her brave thoughts, and heroic efforts, her 
heart ached. 

“There is nothing to forgive,” she asseverated faintly, 
taking a step away from him. 

The tense expression on her face drove the smile from 
his lips. 

“Mrs. Kahree, you will never know how the words I 
spoke to you that night have cut and lashed me.” 

“I am sorry; I hope you will never think of them 
again.” 

“But you haven’t forgotten them.” 

[159] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“I haven’t remembered a word said that night, so far 
as holding it against you is concerned.” 

‘‘Then, if you have forgiven me, you will not refuse me 
this favor. You are not looking as strong as when I left 
you. Can you not give up teaching for a couple of months ? ’ ’ 

“No; I can’t do that. But I will stay with Anna all my 
leisure time. I have a large class. I can be with her only at 
meal times and Sundays and evenings.” 

“Thank you; that will be better than not to have you at 
all, ’ ’ and Mr. Grannell hurried away. 

Gwin limply sank to a chair. Scalding tears rose and 
insisted upon vent, but she determinedly winked them back. 

“How can I go there again?” she murmured. “Why did 
I promise? Have I lost my judgment entirely — lost all 
control of myself ? ’ ’ 

A burst of the old fire brought her to her feet. 

“Well, we shall see!” 

She passed into the hall and upstairs with firm tread 
and elevated chin. 

The next evening brought Anna. As soon as she had 
greeted all at home, she hurried to Mrs. Banks’ boarding 
house. 

John admitted her, and conducted her to Mrs. Kahree’s 
rooms. 

“Dear Mrs. Kahree,” she cried, throwing her arms 
about Gwin, “I am so glad to see you! and so happy to be at 
home again, and to know that we are to have you with us as 
of old.” 

“Thank you, Anna,” and Gwin, returned the sweet 
girl’s embrace. “How nice to have you home once more! 
We have been separated so long, and I have missed you 
sadly. The sound of your voice makes my heart light.” 

[i6o] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“Well, I have almost died with homesickness. When I 
got home, and Uncle told me you had agreed to come back 
to us, I couldn’t wait. I was so afraid you might not come 
over till to-morrow. I want you to-night. 

“It’s five o’clock; dinner will be ready at six, you know. 
If your trunk isn’t ready. I’ll help you to pack it.” 

“It is ready, thank you, except for a few small articles.” 

“Uncle Edgar said he would send a servant for it in a 
little while.” 

“You have grown taller, Anna.” “You are as tall as I 
am now. But you are thin and pale. Is it anything 
serious ? ’ ’ 

“Not a thing but homesickness. I have been homesick 
every minute of the time since I left here. How good dear 
old St. Louis looks to me! I love the very earth it is planted 
on. I shall be all right now; this atmosphere will cure me. 

“But—changing the subject—hasn’t Uncle Edgar grown 
young and handsome, though? I accused him of having 
found a sweetheart somewhere in his rambles, and, bless you, 
he didn’t deny it, and he blushed like a girl.” 

How like a dagger those words shot into Gwin’s heart! 
She forced a little laugh, and bent over her trunk, to place 
in it those “few remaining articles” and lock it. 

“It is well,” she thought — “Just as it should be. God 
has sent me the remedy — I will take it and be thankful. 
The cure will come easy and be effectual when I must see the 
expression of his face daily as I saw it to-day. It evidently im¬ 
pressed Anna as it did me. I shall not need to mask my face. 
The contempt I feel for myself will do that. ’ ’ 

Soon Gwin and Anna went downstairs and out into the 
yellow sunlight, which was shooting in under the trees now 
from the west. They passed slowly up the walk till they 

[i6i] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


reached the grounds at the Grannell home, when they stopped 
simultaneously and looked about them. 

“Oh, this beautiful, beautiful home!” exclaimed Anna, 
clasping her hands. “Isn’t it sweet and dear?” 

“It is, indeed, a beautiful place,” Gwin answered, feel¬ 
ing that to her, too, it was dear, for some of the happiest 
moments of her life had been spent there. 

As they were removing their hats in the hall, Mr. 
Grannell met them with a hand extended to each. “How 
happy I am that my little family is reunited! Would that it 
might remain so through all the coming years.” 

“Dinner is served,” announced the butler. 

Mr. Grannell led Gwin to her old place at the head of his 
table, seated Anna, and took his accustomed seat with a 
heart overflowing with pleasure. 

Mrs. Kahree was given no further demonstration of Mr. 
Grannell’s exuberance. He was serenely satisfied, and 
thought it wise to let matters rest awhile. He attended 
closely to business, leaving Anna and Gwin to themselves a 
great deal. He was very busy and he had no cause to worry. 
Gwin’s heart was his and he intended that she should be his 
indeed before long. Is it strange that he was cool and com¬ 
placent? Most any man could endure a little deprivation 
under such circumstances. 

A political campaign was on, and Mr. Grannell spent 
an evening or two away from home each week; something 
he never did when Gwin was there the first time. She won¬ 
dered where he went and why? She could not prevent her 
mind each day from anticipating the evening, and wondering 
if he would join her and Anna after dinner. If he failed 
to do so, she felt uneasy and disappointed. After which she 
mentally lashed herself for a fool. But with it all, there was 

[162] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


sufficient pleasure to both in the privilege of seeing each 
other daily to make the weeks speed rapidly by. Before 
they could realize it two months had passed. Anna had 
regained her health and must return to school and Mrs. 
Kahree must go back to her boarding house. 

Mr. Grannell sat in his office gazing into the street. He 
neither saw nor heard the hurrying throng. It had been a 
busy morning with him. As each successive client, following 
close upon the heels of another, came to relate his grievance, 
Mr. Grannell heartily wished them all in Halifax. 

A good carpenter never has time to build himself a 
house, nor an expert tailor to make himself a coat; and now 
this lawyer has a case of his own—one of vital importance— 
and can not have a minute to think about it. 

As an unusually tiresome client left his private office, 
Mr. Grannell locked the door, determined to admit no one 
else for awhile. 

“What necessity is there for my returning to the old 
life?’’ he questioned. “The house will soon be like a tomb 
again. I love her; she loves me; she is free; the judge 
married; I need her; she needs me; I believe I can convince 
her now that it is right for her to marry me; I will state the 
case as I see it, and show her wherein she is exempt from 
responsibility in the matter — she being the innocent party. 
Then I will suggest that we have a quiet wedding this eve¬ 
ning, before Anna goes, for she must go to-morrow. We can 
be married at the boarding house, with Anna, Mrs. Danks 
and a couple of my male friends to witness the ceremony.” 

Mr. Grannell went home at noon and communicated his 
plan to Anna, who was wild with delight. 

“You are doing a bad thing for me. Uncle. I shall be 
more homesick than ever now. But you are so good to me I 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


will try to be brave. I love you both so dearly it will give 
me pleasure to know that you are together and happy. . . . 
Aunt Gwin, how nice that sounds! ” 

“Yes; it does,” smiled Mr. Grannell. “But it’s some¬ 
what in doubt yet. ’ ’ 

“Oh! is it?” 

“I fear it is.” 

It happened that Mrs. Kahree did not return to lunch 
that day, and Mr. Grannell was obliged to wait until dinner, 
to speak to her. 

It did not suit him to go to his office in the afternoon, 
his mind was too much perturbed for business. So he ordered 
the carriage, and had Uncle Tom to drive him and Anna over 
the route they had taken with Mrs. Kahree that sweet day 
on which he returned from Havana. 

At dinner, Mr. Grannell was silent and preoccupied. 
His mood had been thus so much of late that Mrs. Kahree 
thought little of it. 

Anna was bubbling with glee, which surprised Gwin, 
for she had been quite inconsolable that morning, because 
the time was so near when she must leave home again. 

“Mrs. Kahree,” said Mr. Grannell as they were passing 
through the hall after dinner. “I would like to speak to 
you a few minutes. ’ ’ 

She bowed and followed him to the library. 

At the door he paused for her to pass in. Then he 
entered and closed the door. Turning, he faced her. 

One look into his love-lit eyes, and all doubt of his 
abiding affection for her fled. Another man’s wife though 
she might be, that expression set her heart to beating 
wildly. She knew what was coming. 

She had more than once been made conscious of his 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


superior strength of mind, and while her fine womanly 
nature rendered obeisance to his masterful spirit, as fine 
womanly nature usually does to a masterful spirit in man, a 
retrospective glance filled her with dread of the task before 
her and something very like a doubt of her own strength to 
resist him assailed her. For, besides this forceful spirit of 
his, she had to cope with her own mad heart. 

“Mrs. Kahree, we have been friends some time. Will 
you permit me to drop a formality, and call you by your 
first name?” 

She bowed assent. 

“Gwin, my darling, I can not permit you to leave me 
again.” 

She put out a hand protestingly, and took a step back¬ 
ward. 

With a long stride forward he stood so close to her 
that his breath brushed her cheek as he resumed passionately. 

“You must marry me at once, this evening!” 

“Mr. Grannell, I can not listen to this.” 

“Call me Edgar,” he pleaded. 

“Mr. Grannell, what does this mean? I thought we 
settled this months ago.” 

“But you are divorced now, and Judge Kahree is mar¬ 
ried again. Are you not aware of that ? ’ ’ 

“I knew the judge had secured a divorce, and I under¬ 
stood he contemplated marriage, but—” 

Gwin opened a purse which was suspended from her 
belt; drawing a folded sheet of paper from it, she handed it 
to Mr. Grannell, who unfolded it and read:— 

“ ‘Whatever you may hear about me, remember 

that I hold my marriage vow to you inviolate. 

A. J. Kahree’.” 


[165] 


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Mr. Grannell looked amazed. 

“Where did you get this?” 

“I received it through the mail the day you arrived 
home from Europe.” 

“Well, Judge Kahree is married. I met him and his 
wife in London. ” 

“There is a mystery somewhere. I consider myself still 
bound to him,” she persisted, “and, according to this state¬ 
ment he considers himself hound to me. Why he should send 
me such a message, married or not, I can not understand.” 
“Did you mention to him that? . . . .” 

“Yes, I told him all.” 

“Ah, it is clear to me now. He wrote this to prevent 
}) 

• • • • 

“Your breaking your marriage vow. But hasn’t he 
broken his?” 

“No; doesn’t he assure me to the contrary?” 

“Gwinnie that proposition is absurd. He worships 

you and he can’t endure the thought of your belonging to 

/ 

another while he lives.” 

Forthwith Mr. Grannell resorted to the fine argument 
he had prepared for this contingency, and his impassioned 
plea — a plea more vitally interesting to him than any he 
ever before had made — came through a wealth of words 
whose lure awoke in Gwin an impulse to cry out, ‘ ‘ Take me; 
I am yours!” Instead she listened, calm outwardly, while he 
set forth the several particulars which, in his opinion, freed 
her from her marriage vow. In conclusion, he broke out 
with new earnestness: 

“I entreat you in behalf of two lonely lives — the diver¬ 
gence of whose paths both nature and circumstances protest 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


against! I beseech you not to permit prejudice to sunder two 
loving hearts!” 

Mrs. Kahree quickly lifted her head. 

“What do you mean by ‘two loving hearts’?” 

Mr. Grannell turned away to hide a smile as he remem¬ 
bered that she was not aware that he possessed her secret. 

“Just what I said; no more — no less.” 

“On what evidence do you base so presumptious a state¬ 
ment.” 

He smiled back at her complacently, with an expression 
in his face of gratified freedom from doubt that filled her 
with consternation. 

“Will you kindly answer my question, sir?” 

“ Yes; I have your word for it, which is quite sufficient.” 

“My word for it? — When did I, by the slightest hint, 
ever tell you that I loved you?” 

Mr. Grannell’s smile developed into a broad grin. Then 
he laughed provokingly, and Gwin lost her temper. 

“Answer my question!” she demanded disdainfully. 
“Will you?” 

“I certainly will: I stood outside the door in the hall a 
few weeks ago, and played eaves-dropper, while you made 
love to my picture.” 

Gwin’s eyes dilated, her lips fell apart, the hot blood 
surged over her face and neck, and she sank to a chair. 

“I did not mean to hear it, darling; but if you knew 
how happy it made me — how it lightened life’s burdens 
from that hour to this, you would not regret it, I know.” 

She raised her fiushed face a moment. 

“If you knew how you are torturing me, you would 
hush, and not refer to the subject again.” 

“Is it torture to know you have made me inexpressibly 

[167] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


happy? This is the one drop of sweet in my cup. Would 
you deprive me of it ? ” 

Again Gwin lifted her face. 

“I would, — and I will! I have no right to put a drop 
of that sort of sweet in your cup. If I have done so, I will 
remove it. For I will conquer my foolish heart, and I will 
do it inside of three months. I have an indomitable will, 
especially when I know I am in the wrong and determine 
to right myself. In three months time I shall be able to tell 
you that not a vestige of the foolish passion remains.” 

She felt strong at the moment. The severe stoical 
sophism with which she had been instructing herself lent a 
glamour of simplicity to the problem before her. Besides, 
she felt humiliated — angry. It seemed to her now that 
nothing would give her so much pleasure as to be able to 
execute her threat. 

“I don’t believe you can do it,” he declared. “I 
couldn’t. ” 

She rose to her feet. Again their eyes met, and some¬ 
thing held them together for several seconds. Gradually the 
determined expression faded from her face, and her quiver¬ 
ing eyelids fell. 

Then his magical voice spoke with assurance. 

“My peerless darling, transparent as pure crystal! 
Your love will never fail me. I no more fear it than I fear 
that yonder blazing lamp will cease to warm the earth;” 
he smiled, as he pointed toward the west. 

“Wait and you shall see. Do you think you know me 
better than I know myself?” 

“Wait, and you shall see.” 

He repeated her words with a confident smile. 

Her eyes flashed indignantly. 

[i68] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“If you continue this bantering. I shall succeed sooner 
than I had hoped. 

She took hold of the door knob. 

He stood with his back to the door, leaning against it, 
looking into her face with a provoking expression. 

“Will you kindly let me pass?” she said. 

“No; begging your pardon, I am not ready. I have 
something more to say. I called this meeting; when I get 
through with the business before the house I will signify it 
by a motion to adjourn. . . . “Gwin, my darling—” 

“Hush!” she interrupted. “Mr. Grannell, you outrage 
every—” 

“My darling, my very own,” he continued, breaking in 
upon her vehement protest with passionate recklessness. “I 
have traveled around this globe; have visited all the princi¬ 
pal places of interest in the world; have crossed the blue 
Mediterranean; am familiar with the isles of Greece, ‘Where 
burning Sappho loved and sang;’ have stood entranced be¬ 
fore the finest paintings and statuary from the hands of old 
masters; but my memory holds a gem superior to any of 
these, and though I were a starving pauper, the wealth of the 
world could not buy it: It is the picture of a fair woman 
with a tender voice, standing under a white light before a 
man’s portrait. Shall I tell you what she said? It is in¬ 
delibly imprinted upon my mind. I can repeat it, word for 
word.” 

Gwin put out a hand imploringly, and her eyes sought 
the fioor. 

Mr. Grannell was at this moment standing under the 
shadow of the strongest temptation of his life. He whose 
ancestral lineage had been the boast of generations; whose 
fair name never had been sullied; whose dealing with his 

[169] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


fellow men had won for him their highest regard. Even he 
who regarded marriage as sacred, because of the eternal 
principles involved therein. Who was conscious that the 
corner stone of civilization and our national life rests upon 
the authority and executive power which are born in the 
family, and that he who ignores these principles, does 
violence to his race and to his own soul, and thus falls under 
the ban of the inexorable law of compensation which de¬ 
mands payment to the uttermost farthing. Yet this man, 
of fine judgment, strong character and refined nature, was 
now standing on the verge of a moral precipice, and but for 
this woman, with her clear conception of right, would 
topple, go over, and drag her with him. 

Not that he was less conscientious than she, nor that his 
mind was less able readily to discriminate between substan¬ 
tial ideas and brain-wrought fantasies.^ But while he con¬ 
temned and repudiated the gross divorce laws of the age, 
which conventionalism lustfully sanctions; his scruples did 
not mark lines quite as sharply as did hers, and it must be 
admitted that he was not seeking conviction. But his honest 
mind was open to it, and, even now, it was struggling with 
strong forces, for conviction was gradually searching him 
out. 

Since reading Judge Kahree’s statement to Gwin,— 
that he held his marriage vow to her inviolate, Edgar 
Grannell was arriving at new conclusions. This statement, 
together with the evidence of what he saw while in London 
of the status quo between Rose and the judge, convinced Mr. 
Grannell that their marriage was one of mere form, and that 
V they did not consider themselves man and wife, except in a 
legal sense. Probably some technicality made a form of 
marriage necessary, to protect the girl’s estate and the judge 

[170] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


had lent himself to it for that purpose. At any rate, Mr. 
Grannell had the utmost confidence in Judge Kahree, and 
did not doubt his word. So, as he had neither died nor com¬ 
mitted adulter^^, Gwin was not free, according to pure 
ethics, and Mr. Grannell’s plans were all upset. For, while 
the laws of the land would sanction his marriage with her, 
he felt that ethical law would not. 

A deep sadness born of these thoughts crept into his 
hungry heart, and in the rare, unifying silence which fol¬ 
lowed, it fructified. He realized that he must surrender her, 
or sacrifice his principle. The impression was strong upon 
him that the time had arrived when every attempt to pre¬ 
vail with her must cease. 

Gwin had thrown herself into a chair beside him. The 
cold breath of sorrow was again sweeping the cords of her 
heart. How she pitied him! She knew him so well now — 
knew what life would be to him without her — knew how 
drearj^ his home would seem to him, and how he would again 
plunge into the gregarious whirl of business and politics, 
to find surcease, as he did when he lost Boxey. She did not 
think how it would be with her. She had had so much 
trouble she was becoming inured to it, but, poor Edgar, how 
desolate he would be! It seemed to her that all sweetness 
had died out of life again, and left only that ‘‘stern daughter 
of the voice of God — Duty.” 

Into the brooding silence her voice fell serene! 

‘ ‘ ‘ And two shall walk some narrow way of life 
So nearly side by side, that should one turn 

Ever so little space to left or right 

They needs must stand acknowledged face to face; 

And yet, with wistful eyes that never meet, 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


With groping hands that never clasp, and lips 

Calling in vain to ears that never hear, 

They seek each other all their weary days 

And die unsatisfied — and this is fate. ’ 

“We have met; our hands have clasped; we have stood 
acknowledged face to face; but fate has decreed that we shall 
walk in separate paths. We must submit, even though we 
die unsatisfied. For, Mr. Grannell, I cannot consent to marry 
you while Judge Kahree lives and continues to assure me that 
he is true to his marriage vow. 

“You know now that I love you, although I did not intend 
you to know it; for I thought it would increase your pain 
at giving me up, and a thought of pain to you is punitive 
to me.” 

She arose and extended her firm, slim hand. He clasped 
it a moment, then he opened his fingers and looked down upon 
it, lying upon his palm so fragile and fair. She saw the color 
slowly recede from his face. Suddenly he dropped her hand, 
caught her in his arms, kissed her lips twice, and her brow. 
Then he gently pushed her from him. 

“Good-bye, it is over,” and he opened the door for her 
to pass out. He closed the door after her and locked it. 

“0 false world! — 0 bankrupt heart! — 0 life! — thou 
galling load!” 

The words fell from lips white with agony. Mr. Grannell 
remained in the library alone for hours. But he came forth 
a stronger man spiritually. He had been in the crucible, his 
lips had just tasted a drop from the cup of crucifixion; but 
his soul was peaceful. Such victories never fail to bring the 
peace that passeth understanding. 

[172] 


CHAPTER XVII 


N otwithstanding Edgar GrannelPs nonchalant 
manner and incredulous smile at Gwin’s declaration 
that in three months she would conquer herself, and that not 
a vestige of the foolish passion would remain, it had been 
a menace to his mind ever since. He had abandoned the idea 
of marriage — while Judge Kahree lived — which, doubtless, 
would mean that it was abandoned forever; but he did not 
feel called upon to surrender Gwin’s affection. That affection 
was a gift from nature. Who had a better right to it than 
he, since he was willing it should measure up to Plato’s stan¬ 
dard of purity. 

He knew that Gwin was a dreamer — an idealist. Too 
well balanced to be a fanatic. But the very one to become 
an uncompromising iconoclast, and begin in her own heart. 
He realized how potent a factor her tenacious adherence to 
her ideals would be in helping her to extirpate this affection. 

Those three months were up now, and Mr. Grannell was 
longing for a glimpse of Gwin. She was only a block away, 
but he had not seen her since the evening he bade her good¬ 
bye in his library. He had been busy almost night and day 
with his practice and the campaign. This had kept time from 
lagging, and enabled him to preserve his usual cheerful spirit. 
But somehow, now that the time had come when he might 
end suspense, he hesitated. The pulsation of his heart was 
sluggish, and he lacked incentive to action. 

It was a warm clear evening, the sun was down, and 
Venus was sparkling in a sapphire sea. But Edgar Grannell 
took little cognizance of the heavens. He was standing on the 

[173] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


lawn at home, his eyes fixed to the earth. He felt a strange 
affinity with the withered leaves at his feet. His hat was 
pulled low over his forehead, and his hands sunk in his 
pockets. 

Presently he lifted his hat, passed to the gate, out and 
down the walk toward a large brick house which was brilliant 
with lights that gleamed from many windows. 

When he arrived there, he saw Gwin standing upon a 
balcon}^ in the second story. 

John answered his ring. 

Mr. Grannell quickly passed up the stairs, and was soon 
in her presence. Their hands met. Did she fiush and pale, 
or was it the play of the street light over her features ? 

“Mrs. Kahree,” began Mr. Grannell at once, “the three 
months are up when you were to look me in the eyes and 
declare that ‘Not a vestige of that foolish passion remains.’ 
Are you read}?' to-night to make that assertion?” 

There was no longer doubt as to the rush of color to 
Gwin’s face. It was ablaze, for she had failed, and she thought 
that he suspected it and was exulting. But could she have 
known the truth and have had a glimpse of what was before 
her, how differently would she have replied! and what a world 
of remorse and grief it would have saved her. But in a 
moment of weakness she permitted pride and a flash of the 
old temper to come between herself and the man she loved. 

“If I continue to feel as I do now, and you continue to 
taunt me, I shall soon succeed. ’ ’ 

“Is it possible! that you have so misunderstood me as 
to think me capable of this? I did not deem it necessary to 
explain that suspense had driven me here — that I had re¬ 
linquished the idea of marriage; but that I felt lonely and 
hungry to see you.' ’ 


[174] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


I beg pardon, Mr. Grannell, if I have done you injus¬ 
tice. I am not responsible for the fact that duty is a cold, 
relentless task-master. ’ ’ 

Mr. Grannell replied in a pained voice. 

“Why will you persist in lacerating your own heart and 
mine? But if this is the way you feel about it, good night. 

Gwin stood tense as he turned from her. She listened 
to his footsteps as he passed through the hall with its granitoid 
floor, and down the stairs. She heard the street door close 
behind him; watched him as he passed up the white walk, 
without a glance backward; watched the beloved form recede; 
until he entered his own grounds, and disappeared behind his 
own shrubbery. 

The impulse came to follow him and acknowledge. But, 
instead, she went to her own suite of rooms, entered, closed 
and locked the door. She felt stupefied. Mr. Grannell’s com¬ 
ing had surprised her. Besides, there was a vague, reproving 
voice in her bosom which grew more and more urgent. The 
old quick temper and impulsive tongue, which in her early 
life had caused her so much pain, had again asserted them¬ 
selves at a time when she needed tender sympathy and a cool 
head. 

At first she thought she would write to Mr. Grannell 
and apologize. But, after long deliberation, she decided to 
let the matter rest. 

“If he thinks me cold and unfeeling, he will forget 
sooner. But oh, it breaks my heart to think it possible for him 
to forget! Yet, we both would be better off dead than en¬ 
couraging this affection, under the circumstances, for it isn’t 
at all likely we ever shall be more closely related to each other 
than we now are.” 


[ 175 ] 


CHAPTER XVIII 


M r. GRANNELL and Mrs. Kahree had not spoken 
together for several months. They had had glimpses 
of each other on the street and at church. Once an usher 
seated her in Mr. GrannelPs pew, by his side. That sermon 
was almost a blank to them both. 

That night Mr. Grannell retired late. 

When the night was far spent, and the moon was sinking 
behind western hills, a woman’s wide open gray eyes were 
gazing full in its face. 

One dark, stormy night in November the Grannell car¬ 
riage stopped at Mrs. Danks’ boarding house. A servant 
had a note for Mrs. Kahree. 

As John presented the silver tray, upon which lay the 
dainty white message, the soft lavender perfume, which 
seemed always to linger in the Grannell home, rose to meet 
her. The letter was from Anna. Gwin opened it and read: 


“ ‘Dear Mrs. Kahree: Uncle Edgar is dying, 
and wishes to see you. 


Anna’.” 


Only a white set face, to indicate that there was any 
feeling, as Gwin hastily threw a long circular cloak about 
her, ran downstairs, out through the driving rain to the car¬ 
riage, which she entered, and was soon standing in the hall 
at the Grannell home. 

A solemn hush pervaded the house. The handsome dark- 

[176] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


eyed master was not there to greet her, as of old. All was 
still and desolate. 

Mrs. Sims met her with a sad face. She silently removed 
the damp cloak from Mrs. Kahree’s shoulders, and hung it 
upon the hall tree. Then, beckoning her, she led the way 
upstairs. 

Arriving at the door of Mr. Grannell’s room, Mrs. Sims 
softly opened it, ushered Mrs. Kahree in, then closed it, 
and retired. 

As Gwin’s eyes met the scene presented, she turned 
blind, staggered forward and sank to a chair. 

“Oh, she’s going to faint, doctor!” whispered Anna, 
who was kneeling beside the bed. 

The doctor stood on the opposite side of the bed with 
his back to the door. He turned quickly, and started for¬ 
ward. 

Mrs. Kahree put out a hand, to check his advance, and 
shook her head. 

There upon the bed, in a coma, with death in his face, 
lay the man against whom she had battled with her heart 
for years. She sat rigid, while a sort of agonized fascination 
held her gaze. “Oh, that last interview!” she thought, “if 
that could be blotted from my memory I could endure every 
thing else. He came to me with his sore hurt, and I failed 
to understand. How could I feel angry toward him! How 
could I tell him that I would drain the last drop of sweet 
from his bitter cup !” 

Gwin sprang to her feet and turned to the door. With 
groping hand, she found the knob, opened the door and 
staggered into the hall; then, softly closing the door behind 
her, she hastened to a window, and threw up the sash, for 
she felt suffocated. A gust of wind and a dash of rain, met 


[ 177 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


her, which revived her, and she let them beat into her face 
awhile. She scarcely knew what she was doing. She was 
haunted by a pair of sad eyes and a grieved voice which said, 
“Why will you persist in thus lacerating your own heart and 
mine? but if this is the way you feel about it, good night.” 

Every sense of Gwin’s being seemed to have merged into 
a generator for anguish. She wondered how long reason 
could retain its throne, under such a strain. 

When she began to feel chilled, she closed the window 
and returned to Mr. Grannell’s room. Approaching the 
doctor, she whispered: “Is there no hope?” 

“Very little. It is my opinion that he will cease to 
breath before morning. ’ ’ 

Anna arose from her knees, and, coming to Mrs. 
Kahree’s side, put her arms about her and wept softly. 
Mrs. Kahree embraced the sorrowing girl, and her pallid 
lips whispered: 

“Dear child!” 

Anna soon lifted her head, and turned to the doctor. 

“Doctor, Uncle Edgar sent for Mrs. Kahree and wishes 
to speak to her alone.” 

The doctor bowed and followed Anna from the room. 

Gwin stepped to the bedside and bent over the man she 
loved, while death seemed hovering between them. 

“Edgar, 0 Edgar!” 

She did not hesitate to call him Edgar now. 

As her low wail of anguish fell upon his ear, he opened 
his eyes, and their hands met. 

‘ ‘ Gwin, my darling! ’ ’ 

“Edgar, forgive me for my coldness. I never meant to 
hurt you. The feeling in my heart that evening was, and 
now is, that it will kill me to live without you. ’ ’ 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“My own sweet darling,” lie murmured, kissing her 
hand. ‘ ‘ I hold no hard thought against you. But I heard the 
doctor tell Anna that I could not live. I can not die satisfied 
and leave you shelterless. You must marry me now, that I 
may endow you with my earthly possessions, and I wish you 
to bear my name. There is no selfishness in the request this 
time. All I ask is, that I may die with my head pillowed 
upon your arm, and that you will kiss me and call me hus¬ 
band. You will not refuse me now, I know.” 

Her answer came in a wail: 

“Edgar, have mercy and pity me! I dare not! I am 
still a wife according to Judge Kahree’s own statement. 
How gladly I would come to you now and comfort you if I 
could! ” 

“Darling, think again,” he insisted in a faint voice. 
“There will be no sin. For I am slipping away from Earth. 
A clergyman is below stairs, waiting to perform the cere¬ 
mony. ’ ’ 

“Edgar, I dare not; though I break your dear dying 

heart by refusing.Oh! ” she gasped. “ Oh!! ” as 

with an exhausted sigh, Mr. Grannell lapsed into uncon¬ 
sciousness. 

Gwin sank on her knees beside the bed. Slipping an 
arm under his head, she drew it close to her breaking heart. 
Tenderly she smoothed the dark silky locks from his broad 
white brow. Not a tear moistened her eyes as she fixed her 
burning gaze upon the features which she felt were soon to 
be hidden from her forever. Her face looked as if she, too, 
were dying. 

Softly stroking his forehead, face and hair, she con¬ 
tinued to gaze for several minutes, trying indelibly to im¬ 
print upon her mind every feature. 

[179] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


At last, she placed his head back upon the pillow, 
pressed one kiss to his lips, and hurried from the room and 
from the house. Forgetting her cloak, she walked home 
through the pelting rain with uncovered head. 

All night she paced the floor of her room, never thinking 
of her wet clothing; she remembered only that Edgar was 
dying, and that she had refused to allow him one drop of 
sweet in his hitter cup; and, failing to stifle her love for him, 
she had tried to deceive him. She who had striven always 
to be so truthful, who had prided herself upon being above 
practicing deception, in any form, on any one, had, in a 
moment of weakness, tried to delude the man she loved, thus 
depriving him of the little happiness she might have 
bestowed upon him. 

“And, oh, I though I was doing my duty!” 

The next morning as she was still pacing the floor, some 
one passing through the hall, remarked: 

“I understand that the Honorable Edgar Grannell died 
last night.” 

“Yes;” replied another voice, “so I heard.” 

Gwin sank to the floor in a swoon. 

*#*##**###*# 

“I wonder why Mrs. Kahree doesn’t come to break¬ 
fast?” queried Mrs. Danks, a little later. 

“Lena, go up to her room and knock, she may be ill. 
All the boarders have eaten; it’s late.” 

In a few minutes, Lena rushed into the dining-room and 
cried breathlessly: 

“Lawd, Miss Sally! Miss Kahree layin’ on de flo’ 
dead! I done crack at de doah, den I open it, an’ look in, 
an’ she sho is dead. 0 lawdy! I’s skee’d to def! I is sho kilt! 

[i8o] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


I nevah seen no dead pusson, when I’s all alone by mys’ef fo’ 
in my life. 0 lawd! my lawd! ’ ’ 

Before Lena was through with this outcry, Mrs. Danks 
and several of her boarders were upon the stairs, hurrying 
to Mrs. Kahree’s room. They found her cold and almost 
pulseless. Fortunately, one of the gentlemen present was a 
physician, and the work of resuscitation was begun without 
delay. But Gwin remembered nothing for several days. 

When she recovered consciousness, Harry Spencer was 
standing beside her bed. 

‘‘Sister, do you know me?” 

“Yes; it’s Harry; how glad I am to see you, dear 
Brother!” she said, putting out a hand. “But what’s the 
matter with me ? ’ ’ 

“You have been very ill for two weeks,” replied Harry, 
clasping her thin hand between both of his. “I came a week 
ago, in answer to a telegram. When I saw you then, I never 
expected to hear you speak another lucid word.” 

“Oh, yes! it all comes to me now. Oh, that load! Why 
could I not have died? Must I take it up again? Oh, I am 
so tired!” 

With a despairing expression of countenance, she turned 
her face away. 

“Sister, perhaps I can lift that load.” 

“No, Harry, you can’t; you don’t know what it is. I 
must carry it or be crushed by it; it yet remains to be seen 
which.” 

“Yes; I know what it is; I know all about it. Do you 
think good news ever killed any one, Gwinnie?” 

“I don’t know,” she answered apathetically. 

“If you will not permit yourself to become excited, I 
will tell you something very pleasing,” smiled Harry. 

[i8i] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Gwin opened her gray eyes wonderingly a minute, then 
she closed them wearily. “Tell me anything you please, it 
will not excite me.” 

She lay thus for some time manifesting no curiosity or 
interest in what Harry had to communicate. 

“I have something to say about your friend, Mr. 
Grannell. ’ ’ 

Her eyes opened quickly. They were more blue than 
gray now. 

“What would you say, if I should tell you that he is 
living and rapidly convalescing?” 

“Harry! you don’t mean it! you don’t know what you 
are saying! Don’t triflle with me, I implore!” 

“Yes; I know what I am saying,and it is true; but you 
promised not to become excited.” 

The color was coming and going in Gwin’s face, and she 
was panting. 

‘ ‘ Here now, you must quiet yourself! this will never do! ” 

Her answer was a sob, and the pent up grief, which had 
been scorching her brain, gushed forth in tears of joy. 
Harry beckoned the nurse, and both left the room, so that 
Gwin might sob it out alone. 

When they returned, a half-hour later, they found her 
sleeping. 

The next morning when Harry visited Gwin, he found 
her greatly improved. She held out a hand to him. 

“Dear Brother, how nice to see you again! We have 
been separated so long. . . . How handsome you are!” 

“See here, if you continue that sort of talk, you will 
have my head so inflated that my hat will be too small.” 

He clasped Gwin’s hand, and bowed to the nurse, who 
had taken up a tray and started to leave the room. 

[182] 


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“How is Mr. Grannell?” inquired Gwin, as soon as they 
were alone. 

“Improving. He’s out of danger; but I’ve caught the 
malady. ’ ’ 

“What? — The malady?” 

Harry laughed. 

“What malady?” 

“Yours and his — I’m in love.” 

Gwin stirred and reddened. 

“0 Harry!” she was greatly embarassed. 

Then she pointed to a chair, and Harry sat down. 

“This must seem wondrous strange to you, Harry, that 
I am separated from my husband, and standing at the gates 
of death, because of my love for another. I scarcely can 
realize it myself. It seems so at antipodes with my pet 
theories.” 

“Well — yes;’’admitted Harry. “Mere subservience to 
law, however.” 

‘ ‘ What ? — what law ? ’ ’ 

“The same that shoots the blossom from the bulb and 
twines the vine from left to right about the tree.” 

“Dear Harry, how you understand! You always had a 
faculty of placing me on the best of terms with myself — 

regardless of how ridiculously I may have behaved. 

How I have missed you out of my life!” 

“How I have missed you out of my life! more than you 
will ever know, Gwin.” 

Gwin never had suspected that Harry’s affection for her 
had been deeper than that of a brother for a sister. So she 
was spared the sorrow of knowing how he had suffered. 

“I think I never had a greater surprise than when I 
read your letter informing me of the disruption between you 

[183] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


and Judge Kahree. What was the trouble? May I ask?” 

“I am sorry, Brother, but I can not tell you. I can say 
this, though, I haven’t departed one iota from my first 
principles. 

‘‘But, Harry, you say you are in love. With whom?” 

“Anna Grannell; and, glory be to Billiken! I have won 
her!” 

Gwin’s eyes grew bright with moisture. 

“Dear Anna, she is one of the sweetest girls I ever knew. 
My illness has been a blessing, after all, for it brought you 
two together. You are fortunate, Harry, you have won a 
treasure, and I am so glad! oh, so glad!” 

“That’s the way I have it figured, that I have won a 
treasure; and glad doesn’t express it. I have had a lonely 
time of it at the old home. But I think there are brighter 
days ahead of me now. ’ ’ 

“Yes, Harry, I am sure of it. I don’t see how it could 
be otherwise. You have been such a good son — such a dear 
good brother, you deserve happiness.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


T wenty months had elapsed since the hand of Judge 
A. J. Kahree had been united with that of Rose Ruth von 
in an assumption which all the world, but they, recognized 
as marriage. This environment did not exert a coalescing 
influence, however; it opened a gulf which widened to a tacit 
preclusion of social intercourse between them. Rose was very 
sensitive and reserved, and while both took pains to appear 
natural to others, so as not to attract attention, they were 
almost like strangers to each other now. The judge was very 
attentive and deferential to Rose when with her; but he 
avoided her as much as possible. He attended her to and 
from meals and frequently invited her to go out with him. 
She went occasionally to a lecture, an opera, or for a drive. 
He had become quite regular in his attendance at church; but 
Rose drew the line squarely there. She held the propagandism 
of the church responsible for all her misery. Only for its 
influence. Judge Kahree would love her. 

What a period of starved loneliness the last twenty 
months had been to her! Tied, as she was, to one she wor¬ 
shiped; who reciprocated not; and — as she thought — did 
not know she loved him, nor care; who could not conscien¬ 
tiously call her wife; whose sympathy she dare not seek; 
whose hand she dare not touch. She attracted men wherever 
she went. What cared she for that 1 the world held but one 
man for her; his love was denied her. But he was kindness 
itself. He was striving to keep his part of the contract. 
He provided luxuries with lavish hand, which helped to 

[185] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


humiliate her. For she knew she was not necessary to him 
in any way. mere interloper,” she told herself, “an in¬ 
truder on his bounty.” 

But this is not saying that Judge Kahree was not at all 
susceptible to the charms of this dominant woman who was 
his in the eyes of the law and with whom he walked and 
talked daily. Occasionally, her sweet breath touched his 
mouth when they were conversing, and his heart quickened, 
while the fragrance from her hair and bodice, “which accentu¬ 
ated her exquisiteness, ’ ’ seemed to follow him. So he was con¬ 
scious in his heart of hearts that the only safety for him 
was in keeping to his self-prescribed line. Eealizing Rose’s 
love for him, he knew how her heart ached. His sympathy 
went out to her. But he considered himself blameless. The 
condition was a thrust of fate which had come too suddenly 
for him to parry. It had placed him under “relentless vas¬ 
salage.” He began faintly to sense a possibility that the 
tyrant. Temptation, might yet hold him in “an inglorious 
bondage, and scourge him with burning lashes.” 


“If he would but give me his sympathy, or ever seem to 
feel the need of me! ” moaned Rose, as she stood before a long 
mirror in her boudoir. “Did ever a beautiful woman receive 
as little love as I do! Yet, it is my own fault — or rather, it 
is owing to my strange fascination for Arrel Kahree. I have 
thrown avvay all other love for this — and he knows it not, nor 
cares. 

‘ ‘ 0 my dear father, how I miss you! Little did you sus¬ 
pect the suffering you were leading me into when you forced 

me into this. But it was done out of the love of vour tender 

•/ 

heart, and I do not blame you; oh, no! oh, no!” 

Rose sat down and wept softly for some time. 

[i86] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘Yet, how can I blame Judge Kahree?” she resumed 
tearfully. 

‘ ‘ I can not — I must not! But I can break away from 
this degrading dependence, and I will! Surely, I can find 
something to do to make a genteel and honest living. To¬ 
morrow I will go and see what I can find.” 

But to-morrow came and went, and Rose did not go. The 
thought of turning from the man she loved and facing an 
untried world held her back from day to day. Besides, she 
did not know where to seek employment, nor what kind to 
look for, and her father would disapprove of it, if he could 
know. That thought hurt her cruelly. 

One evening as Judge Kahree sat amid a fragrant blue 
cloud in his sitting-room, a lighted cigar between his teeth, 
and his feet upon the back of a chair in front of him, there 
came a soft knock at his door; then it was pushed open, and 
Rose stood upon the threshold. The judge looked up in some 
surprise. This was something she seldom did. 

‘ ‘ Don’t let me disturb jmu, ’ ’ she said, as he took the cigar 
between his fingers, and removed his feet from their elevated 
perch. “I merely came to say that I have intruded upon 
your generosity long enough, and I am going out to earn my 
own living. I thank you for your kindness to me. If I ever 
can, I will repay it in dollars and cents, whatever can be paid 
in that way, but I shall always owe you a debt of gratitude.” 

The judge rose to his feet; placed his cigar in an ivory 
rack upon the table; came to her side; and took her by the 
arm. 

“Too much smoke here,” he said, as he led her back to 
her boudoir, and closed the door between the rooms. Then 
he drew an easy chair, and placed her in it. “Now, tell me 
what I have done to hurt your feelings.” 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


‘‘Don’t think that!” she pleaded, with burning cheeks. 
‘ ‘ It is to escape your generosity that I am going. ’ ’ 

“But you are not going. Have you considered that it 
would create a scandal ? Remember we are man and wife — 
in the eyes of the world. You are my legal wife ; if you should 
disappear, and I should die, there would be no one to claim 
my estate. Besides, you owe it to your father to remain with 
me, you know we both promised. I can not permit you to go, 
if there is any way to prevent it, and I think there is, for 
I believe you will listen to reason. If you feel that I deserve 
the least consideration, you would not willingly bring reproach 
upon me.” 

Rose lifted her eyes to his furtively. 

‘ ‘ I would rather die than to bring opprobrium upon you. 
I did not consider what the world would think or say. Believe 
me, I appreciate the noble sacrifice you made to satisfy my 
dying father’s wish. I never shall cease to be grateful to 
you. ’ ’ 

Judge Kahree stood looking down upon her pityingly. 
Her pathetic situation struck him with new force as being 
complete and distinctive — without hope of alleviation. He 
never before had realized fully to what extent she had been 
wronged by this unnatural alliance, or how galling the chains 
must be. He answered softly — tenderly; 

“You speak of my sacrificing for you. I wish you could 
realize, Rose, how much pleasure it affords me to be able to 
protect and keep near me the daughter of my friend, of him 
who twice saved my life. I have told you before, I tell you 
again it is a privilege. What could I spend my money for 
that would give me the satisfaction this does ? — Not a thing. 
My earthly possessions are all yours, except one hundred thou¬ 
sand dollars. In my will, I have left that amount to'Gwin. 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


But I doubt if she will accept it. She has refused my every 
tender of money, so far. If you do not wish to give me pain, 
you will henceforth refrain from allusion to the subject.” 

The judge sat down, and for more than an hour he and 
Rose conversed upon various topics. She was bright and well 
informed. Judge Kahree had always enjoyed conversing with 
her, and had regretted all along that he was obliged to hold 
himself so aloof from her. 

A few evenings later Judge Kahree was walking about 
restlessly in his own handsome apartments, contemplating his 
own strange case, and the more pathetic one of the girl in the 
adjoining suite. 

Presently he swung round and found himself facing his 
own image, 'which was reflected in a mirror. He smiled sadly 
as he observed the silver threads about his temples. 

“ ‘Touch us gently, Time,^ ” he murmured. 

‘ ‘ ‘ Let us glide adown thy stream 

Gentl}^, as we sometimes glide through a quiet dream.’ ” 

Judge Kahree’s mood was pensive and introspective. He 
was surprised now, when he thought it over, that he could 
have been induced to consider, for one moment, the unique 
proposition he had entered into with Rose. “Still,” he re¬ 
flected, “I don’t know what else I could have done, con¬ 
scientiously, to satisfy Ruthvon. I took the obligation in 
good faith. But I haven’t kept it to the letter. I have 
neglected the girl, and she feels it. Has my zeal in duty 
been a mere pandering to consciousness of my own weakness ? 
It seems so, really. Poor Rose, she lives the life of a recluse 
behind four walls. While she has been a pet of society, and 
could be again, its fawning sickens her and her ardent nature 
cries out for the w'arm, impassioned affection of one heart, 

[189] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


and that heart is mine. This is unfortunate for us both. But 
I promised to take her father’s place as her companion, to 
associate with her as closely as he did, and I promised her 
a brother’s love. Have I kept my word? — No! Why?— ” 
He turned to the mirror again, and looked himself squarely 
in the eyes. ‘‘You weakling! you coward! ...” Then he 
knocked at the door of Rose’s apartments. 

Rose answered immediately, and stood holding the door, 
waiting for him to ask for a magazine or a paper, — or to 
tell her he was going out of town. 

“May I come in?” 

‘ ‘ Oh! — why certainly! ’ ’ 

A glad light flashed into the girl’s eyes, and she threw 
the door wide. 

So this big-hearted man proceeded to take another step 
in the mistake he had made. If he had continued as he had 
begun, or if Rose had had Gwin’s educated conscience, all 
might have been well, even in his present unnatural environ¬ 
ment. 

Rose was a chaste as Gwin was, and as conscientious, so 
far as she knew. But she was a little heathen, in ethical cul¬ 
ture. She considered herself the lawful, wedded wife of Arrel 
Kahree, for whose affection she was starving. What if he 
did stipulate that their love must be purely Platonic! She did 
not object. The purer the better. But he didn’t love her at 
all, that was clear to her. He had held himself so aloof from 
her since their marriage. Rose could not understand why. 
“I believe that poor Papa’s forcing me upon him as he did, 
has made him dislike me,” she reflected, with burning cheeks. 
“I thought he would kiss me sometimes, as my father did, 
and tell me I was necessary to his happiness. I would be 
satisfied if he would do that. He said he needed a sister. A 


[190] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


strange sister it is who never kisses her brother, and rarely 
talks with him, except in the presence of others.” 

Although Rose was holding an open book in her hand 
when she opened the door to Judge Kahree, these were the 
thoughts his knock had interrupted. 

“Rose,” he said, as he entered the room, “I have come 
to you for a favor.” 

The girl’s eyes grew round with wonder. 

“I have a headache to-night. Will you read to me 
awhile ? ’ ’ 

Rose’s heart quickened with keen pleasure at being able 
to grant him a favor. 

“Yes; I shall be glad to. I enjoy reading aloud. Have 
you a preference?” 

“Not in particular. What is that in your hand?” 

“ ‘Lucile.’ It is a favorite with me; perhaps you would 
prefer something else — a late work or — ” 

“Read from that,” he interrupted, throwing himself 
upon a couch, and adjusting a pair of big silk pillows under 
his head. “Its style is musical and restful; it will suit my 
present mood.” 

Rose sat down beside a table under the great electric 
chandelier, which filled the large, beautiful room with bril¬ 
liance, and, opening the book at the first chapter, her voice, 
vibrant with sympathy for Lucile, was soon playing with the 
rhythm of the exquisite poem, adding a charm to its melli- 
flous meter. 

The judge lay with half-closed eyes and listened, while 
the beautiful reader vivified the metrical story. He was sur¬ 
prised when the clock struck the hour of twelve. 

“Really, Rose, I beg pardon,” he said, springing up, and 
consulting his watch, to see if the clock was right. “I had 

[191] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


no idea it was so late. I read that poem when it first came 
out. But I enjoyed it so much to-night that I forgot every¬ 
thing else, even my headache. Thank you very much. I will 
come to-morrow evening and hear the conclusion — that is, 
if I may?’’ 

“If I may?” There was reproach in her voice as she 
repeated his words. 

“Good-night,” he said, smiling back at her as he left 
the room and closed the door behind him. 

Bose was too happy to sleep; she switched off the light, 
and, going to a window, threw aside the curtains and sat down 
in the starlight. 

“Dare I hope? — 0 trembling heart, cease your thrills 
of ecstasy and listen to reason, lest disappointment follow 
and kill you! ’ ’ 

For hours she sat dreaming of what might yet be in 
store for her — trying to imagine what it would be to dare 
to touch his hand, or kiss his brow. 

The judge retired at once and was soon sleeping. 

The next evening, after dinner, the judge remarked play¬ 
fully, as they left the elevator. 

“By the way, I have an engagement this evening with a 
lady. Have I not?” 

“I am not supposed to be informed as to your engage¬ 
ments,” she returned, in the same sportive spirit. “You may 
have more than one, for aught I know.” 

The judge followed Bose into her suite, and closed the 
door. 

The calmness of her nature seemed to pervade all her be¬ 
longings. An air of restfulness lingered in her apartments 
with the breath of flowers, which she always kept about her. 
She seated herself beside the table and took up the book. 

[192] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


The judge took an easy chair near her, placed his feet 
upon a stool, and settled himself hack comfortably. 

In the meantime, they had fallen into a reminiscent 
colloquy. Kose dropped the book in her lap, crossed her white 
hands over its purple cover, and lo! it was nine o^clock 
before either realized it, and she had not commenced to read. 
It was eleven o’clock when she finished and closed the volume. 
As she placed it upon the table, the judge remarked. 

“The English and Scotch writers are holding the atten¬ 
tion of the literary world to-day in a pre-eminent degree.” 

“Yes; I think there is decline of ability among American 
writers of fiction,” opined Rose. 

“Oh, no! no! no!” the judge objected. “There may 
be some lack of enthusiasm, but not of ability.” 

It isn’t to be wondered at if there is lack of enthusiasm. 
If young American writers were not irrepressible, few would 
survive the strangling their enthusiasm receives from Ameri¬ 
can publishers.” 

Judge Kahree smiled back at Rose quizzically. 

“You speak warmly. Is it from experience? May I 
ask ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I know by what I read, ’ ’ she evaded. 

The judge had observed that Rose sometimes received 
cumbersome documents from New York through the mail. 

‘ ‘ I half suspect you of hungering for fame. Rose. ’ ’ 

“Hungering for fame! I have never had a thought of 
fame. But I have been studying and writing for some time, 
hoping to be able to earn my living with my pen. I have 
met only failure, so far. It seems that I must continue to 
hang like a dead weight, upon you. Pardon my reference to 
this. — But you would have it,” she appended, with a sad 
smile. 


[193] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Kose did not know what a strong appeal this was to Judge 
Kahree’s sympathy, nor how tenderly his eyes were regard¬ 
ing her. His afflictions and didactic errantries had expanded 
his generous nature, and this largeness was now to become a 
flexion for temptation. For his sympathy was leading his bet¬ 
ter judgment, and Rose had absolutely no realization of the 
real situation. It was one thing to her, and quite an other 
thing to Judge Kahree. 

“I am beginning to see that I have been derelict in my 
duty toward you.’^ The judge told Rose reflectively, after a 
minute. “I will try to be more companionable in future, •— 
try to do more to make you happy.” 

She quickly thrust out a hand with its pink palm turned 
toward him. 

“Don’t! for heaven’s sake! don’t talk about doing more 
for me, while I do nothing! You don’t know what happiness 
you have conferred upon me by asking a favor of me.” 

The clock struck half-past eleven. The judge arose, said 
good-night, and left the room. 

Again, Rose was too happy to sleep. She sprang to her 
feet, switched off the light, threw aside the curtains from a 
window, and sat down in the starlight to dream. Could it be 
possible that a new day — that ideal day — was dawning 
for her? That its rosy light, even now, was penciling her 
sky? 

On the opposite side of the partition all was silent. Judge 
Kahree had retired, but he did not fall asleep at once. The 
fragrance from the room beyond seemed to pervade his atmos¬ 
phere. 

After this, Rose and the judge were together a great deal. 
Several months passed. It was clear to Rose now that the 

[ 194 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 

judge was, indeed, fond of her — that she was necessary to 
his happiness. 

Had he ceased to love Gwin? No; but she was dead to 
him, and Rose supplied the love and sympathy which his 
yearning, homesick heart required; and “poor Rose’’ had 
no one but him to care for her. 

But Judge Kahree still was strong in his purpose to be 
true to his convictions. He felt that he was doing only his 
duty in giving Rose all his spare time. It was a pleasing duty, 
and he did not realize how dear she liad become to him. 

Rose’s situation was unique. A crisis was approaching. 
She watched it almost with bated breath — never dreaming 
what it would mean to him she loved. A woman in years, a 
child in experience — all untutored along the lines on which 
Gwin was so enthusiastic and conscientious. Never having 
been taught, how could Rose be expected to see the matter 
in its true light and comprehend the great principle which was 
actuating Judge Kahree ? To her, the crisis was merely being 
folded in his arms, and with warm kisses, assured that she 
possessed his undivided affection. It was feeling free to 
fondle and pet him as she had fondled and petted her father. 
The judge was her legal husband. She knew now that he 
loved her, although he had not committed himself verbally by 
the slightest hint. But Rose, more than once, had read his 
secret in his face — as he long ago had read hers. Still, she 
felt that she could not be sure of him, until he expressed 

himself in words. 

Her feeling was intense. The door of hope was standing 
ajar. What if the monster Prejudice should yet close it in 
her face! She felt that mere prejudice was holding back 
his confession. What wonder, then, that she strove with all 

[ 195 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


the witchery of her alluring powers to draw and hold Judge 
Kahree ? 

One evening the judge was out of town on a business 
trip. Rose sat upon a broad window sill in her boudoir, in 
the full moonlight, watching for his return. 

His train was due. Rose had been sitting there a long 
time, her mind retroactive with sweet memories. 

Ten o’clock struck, then eleven. Rose began to feel anx¬ 
ious. What could be keeping the judge ? 

She leaned out at the window, and looked up and down 
the street. She could not sleep now until he came, so it was 
useless for her to retire. 

She could see the Thames rolling sullenly along; a 
medley of honks from its busy crafts jarred upon her ear, 
and a silhouette of the Tower of London lay dark against 
the sky. Rose turned her face from it. The picture was too 
cadaverous for the hour. She could not endure the thoughts 
it suggested. They sent cold thrills up her back. 

Now and then a carriage drove up and stopped before 
the hotel, but the judge was not among those who came. 

It was midnight when his brougham arrived. As he left 
it, he glanced up at Rose’s window and saw her. 

“My darling!” she breathed passionately, “Can he retire 
without coming in to see me a minute, after having been away 
two days? He knows I haven’t retired, he saw me.” 

Rose’s question was soon answered by a gentle rap at the 
door of her boudoir. She sprang to her feet and hastened to 
admit the judge. 

“Good evening. Rose. I saw you at the window, so I 
called a minute, to see how you are, and to reprove you for 
keeping late hours. Don’t do this again. I missed my train.” 

[196] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


He put his arm about her. Then let it fall, as if he had 
received a sudden reprimand. 

‘ ‘ Are you well ? ’ ’ 

“Yes; thank you, her heart was fluttering fast. “You 
are well, are you?” 

‘ ‘ Perfectly, thank you. ’ ’ 

“I will turn on a light,” she said, taking a step toward 
a switch. “I have been sitting in the moonlight.” 

“Not for me, I prefer the moonlight.” 

He took her by the arm, and led her back to the window, 
through which the moon was casting a great white spotlight. 
Seating her upon the broad sill, he sat down beside her. 

A low, muttering sound came rolling through the quiet 

air. 

“That’s thunder!” Rose sprang to her feet, and crossed 
the room to a west window. Lifting the silken curtain, she 
looked out. 

“There’s a frightful cloud rising. I am glad you came 
before the storm did. I have an inherent fear of storms, 
bequeathed me from my mother. They terrify me.” 

She returned to the moonlit window and sat down beside 
the judge. 

A book lay upon the sill between them. The judge took 
it up. 

“ ‘The life of Cardinal Richelieu,’ ” he read by the 
moon’s rays. 

“I just finished reading it,” she replied. 

“An obdurate, invincible character,” declared the judge. 

“And one which held a paradox,” she smiled, — “that 
of fine mental caliber, led by religious superstition.” 

“Self aggrandizement was the moving motor with 
Richelieu, ’ ’ the judge explained. 

[ 197 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


claimed it was conscience; with his last breath he 
called God to witness the fact. Yet, you remember he once 
said: ‘When I have made up my mind, I go straight to the 
point. I mow down ever 3 dhing that stands in my way, and 
cover it all up with my red cassock. ’ Conscience, conscience! 
that coat of many colors, ’ ’ and she thought: ‘ ‘ Oh, that super¬ 
stition could be eliminated from Judge Kahree’s mind! For 
— be it pagan or Christian — it is the same stony Gorgon 
yesterday, to-day and forever. Its mission is graft. It ruined 
the Rameses dynasty; induced kings and philosophers to ex¬ 
change their gold for the obscure oracles of ignorant, mutter¬ 
ing priestesses at Dodona and Delphi; invented the tortures 
of the Inquisition; incited leaders like Richelieu to murder; 
hung innocent victims at Salem, in our own beloved homeland; 
and for months has held the man I love — my own wedded 
husband — aloof from me.” 

Rose’s eyes flashed a little, but they were beautifully 
starrj^ and were never more calling. 

The emotions that were sweeping the breast of the man 
beside her were twofold now. 

“Good-night,” the judge said, rising; “it is late, I am 
keeping you up.” 

“Oh, no; indeed you are not 1 I can’t sleep till the storm 
is over. Don’t leave me alone with it — please 1” 

Judge Kahree turned back to the window. 

Again, like the growl of a demon, came the voice of dis¬ 
tant thunder. 

After a little reflection. Rose begged the judge to go. 

“You are tired, it is selflsh for me to keep you. Please 
go now, I will try not to be nervous. ’ ’ 

A peal of thunder shook the earth. He saw Rose shiver 
and creep toward him a little. He would not leave her now 

[198] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


till the storm was over, although he really wished to do so. 
For he began to feel a little afraid of himself, — not quite 
so self-confident as of old. 

The clouds had not reached the moon yet, and it shone 
full upon them. But the sullen voice of the approaching 
storm grew louder each moment. 

x\nother electric flash and terrific report terrorized Rose 
and she instinctively nestled closer to the judge. 

It seemed cruel that he could not put his arms about her, 
as her father always did at such times; and now he realized, 
for the first time, that she had crept into his affections deeply. 

Presently the girl became conscious of how closely she 
was nestled to Judge Kahree. She straightened up, and 
pushed from him a little — quite ashamed of herself. 

“It seems strange that I should fear death. I! — I! — 
Isn’t it ridiculous that I care to exist; or have you ever con¬ 
sidered the matter?” 

“I presume I have thought more about it than you have 
suspected; and. Rose, this sham marriage of ours has been 
a mistake; I realize it more and more. ’ ’ 

“Do you? .... You feel that it has been a mistake? 
I have disappointed you. I have not been the sweet compan¬ 
ion, the dear, sympathetic sister you so much needed. ’ ’ 

“Not that. Rose.” 

“What then?” 

There was a sob in her voice, but the judge did not reply. 
Her lips twitched slightly, as her pellucid eyes were turned 
steadily upward to his face. 

“You will not tell me what you mean?” 

“You are the sweetest, most innocent, untutored child 
of your age I ever knew, ’ ’ he laughed. 

[199] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Rose failed to see the appropriateness of a laugh. What 
was there to provoke it? she wondered. 

But the judge had never felt more deeply sorry for any 
human being than he did for her as he stood there gazing 
down into her beautiful upturned face. 

The moon was shining through light, scurrying clouds 
now, and the trees were tossing and swaying in the wind. 
Presently there came a blinding flash, and a terrific peal of 
thunder. In a paroxysm of fright. Rose caught the judge’s 
hand between both of hers. It required but the soft touch of 
those fingers to turn the scales. His arms closed about her: 

^‘Rose, my darling — my beautiful queen!” 

Ah I her dream was realized at last. Sweet as honey fell 
those words upon her ear, and his kiss thrilled her like an 
elixir of the immortals. 

A flash and a crash followed. Judge Kahree remembered 
no more for a time. When he regained consciousness, a nurse 
was sitting beside his bed. He glanced about him: “Where 
am I? What has happened?” 

“You are in a hospital. Judge, and you have but a short 
time to live.” 

‘ ‘ But mv wife ? ’ ’ 

“She has passed into the beyond.” 

‘ ‘ Quick! Bring writing materials I ’ ’ 

The nurse left the room and soon returned with pen, ink 
and paper. 

“Now sit down and write what I shall dictate.” 

The nurse seated herself, dipped the pen in the ink and 
waited a few seconds: 

“Honorable Edgar Grannell, St. Louis, Missouri, 

U. S. A.”, began the judge. A pause followed.“My 

dear friend: I am dying. Gwin is yours at last. ‘ As a man 

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soweth so shall he also reap’.” Another pause, in which 

the nurse waited with uplifted pen. After a minute she 
glanced toward the bed. The judge was dead. 

A few hours later the nurse wrote and mailed a letter 
of explanation to Edgar Grannell, in which she inclosed Judge 
Kahree’s last message. 

But by this time a surprising change had come into 
Edgar Grannell’s life. 


/ 


[201] 


CHAPTER XX 


S OCIETY felt quite chagrined that the Honorable Edgar 
Grannell was so exclusive. He was not the type of man 
in which one would expect to find this trait. He was genial,— 
a host within himself. Wherever he went he was hailed with 
delight. It seemed strange that he remained a bachelor. It 
was whispered that he had loved and lost, :— that his heart 
was buried in some girl’s grave. But that was years ago, — 
it ought to have been resurrected by this time. So had thought 
more than one fair woman who forthwith proceeded adroitly 
to lend her aid> But Mr. Grannell had a polite way of dis¬ 
suading such intrepid designers which left them no alternative 
but to courtesy with backward step as gracefully as possible. 

The 'wealthy Mrs. Craven, a friend of his, had a niece, a 
charming young widow, of whom she often spoke, who lived 
in Cincinnati. 

One day Mr. Grannell met Mrs. Craven on the street. 

‘ ‘ Now, Mr. Grannell, ’ ’ she said, as she gave him her hand, 
“Ruby Williams is coming to visit me and I am going to ask, 
as a favor, that you help me make it pleasant for her while 
she is here.” 

“Certainly, Mrs. Craven, I shall take pleasure in doing 
all I can.” 

“You will find her very sweet. If you are not careful, 
she may prove too much for that impervious heart of yours. 
I have fore-armed you now. If you are vanquished, I shall 
have nothing to answer for, ’ ’ laughed the lady. 

“My heart impervious? You have a wrong impression. 

[202] 


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I am fond of women, and very susceptible to their blandish¬ 
ments. ’ ’ 

“Ye—s; you have a queer way of demonstrating the fact. 
You live as secluded as a monk. I doubt if you have ex¬ 
changed a dozen words with a marriageable woman in six 
months — except, perhaps, in a business way.” 

“You evidently are not informed as to all I do.” 

“Well, good-bye. Euby will arrive to-morrow. I shall 
expect you to keep your promise.” 

It was a week before Mr. Grannell again thought of his 
promise. 

‘ ‘ Really, I had forgotten that. ’ ’ he soliloquized. ‘ ‘ I must 
go at once, or Mrs. Craven will never forgive me.” 

He went to his dressing room immediately. When he 
came down stairs, he paused in the hall, to consult his watch. 

“I must call at Mrs. Danks, look in at Gwin, and tell 
her where I am going,” he reflected, as he took his hat and 
left the house. 

Gwin had permitted him to visit her occasionally since 
his illness. He found her at the piano now, in her studio. 
She looked bright and cheery and all about her was cozy and 
inviting. He glanced back longingly as he bade her good¬ 
night. 

Mr. Grannell was not expecting to meet such a vision of 
loveliness as that which burst upon his sight when he was 
ushered into the Craven drawing-room. Ruby Williams was 
ravishingly beautiful — rather an uncommon type. She was 
above medium in size, with luminous black eyes, an abundance 
of fine dark-red hair, a complexion which was a marvel, sug¬ 
gesting snow and roses, a musical laugh,, and polished man¬ 
ners. 

Although her mentality was mediocre, she was gifted with 

[ 203 ] 


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a mind which reflected brilliantly, when inspired by other 
minds. To hear her tell a story was highly amusing. The 
smallest incident was charming when related by her. 

Ruby’s parents were in moderate circumstances, and she 
was the oldest of seven children. At nineteen, she determined 
to do no more skimping. So she married a wealthy man, 
thirty years her senior, hoping that he would not live long. 
Nor did he, but he failed in business before he died, leaving 
her little but his name — which she did not admire, it was 
too common. Eighteen months after she left her father’s home 
a bride she returned to it a penniless widow. She had been 
a widow long enough to lay aside her weeds when her aunt 
conceived the notion of inviting her to visit St. Louis, with a 
view to capturing Edgar Grannell. 

Mrs. Craven watched him closely as she presented him 
to Ruby. She observed his look of surprised admiration, and 
her silent prediction was: ‘ ‘ She will bring you to time, sir. ’ ’ 

“Mr. Grannell,” piped Ruby sweetly, as they seated 
themselves. “I have been waiting with great impatience to 
meet you. Aunty tells me that you are a recluse of the hard¬ 
shell variety. I never before saw a real live hermit. But I 
am disappointed. I expected you to wear long hair, and 
bushy whiskers of about five years growth. ’ ’ 

“I am sorry to have disappointed you,” laughed Mr. 
Grannell. 

‘ ‘ Oh, well, you may prove sufficiently interesting without 
the hair and whiskers. One naturally associates a delightful 
little romance with a hermit, — a broken heart, and all that, 
you Imow. ’ ’ 

“I am to understand, then, that you look upon broken 
hearts as delightful and amusing?” 

[204] 


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Kuby responded with a laugh musical as tinkling bells, 
and she thought: “I wonder if he is heart-whole?’’ 

As if answering a telepathic message Mr. Grannell added: 

“But, Mrs. Williams, I assure you that although my 
heart may have been pierced, scorched and riven, it is all in 
one piece today.” 

Ah, ’ ’ thought Ruby, “ he' admits that he has suffered, 
but it is over — the wound no longer bleeds. A most inter¬ 
esting subject, — easy to manage. He, doubtless, imagines 
his heart calloused. The truth is, it is more susceptible than 
if it had not been wounded. ’ ’ She smiled softly, as she remem¬ 
bered the fate of her other subjects and in imagination saw 
this desirable one floundering in a net woven by no novice. 

Ruby Williams was a close observer, with acute instincts. 
She soon decided that, to succeed with this man, the best that 
was in her would be called into requisition. This decision 
had a salutary effect, resulting in a close introspection of her 
own faults, and a sincere wish to be truer and better. 

Mr. Grannell liked Ruby. Her manner was pleasing, and 
free from any hint of self consciousness, while the gems of 
wit that fell from her lips so often would render a homely 
woman attractive, and, notwithstanding her brilliant humor, 
which afforded him so much amusement, he felt a touch of 
sympathy for her, because she was widowed so young. He 
had not forgotten how he suffered when he lost Roxey. 

He spent a very pleasant evening with Mrs. Williams and 
Mrs. Craven. As he was about to bid them good night Mr. 
Craven appeared at the drawing-room door. 

“Good evening, Mr. Grannell, I am glad I got home be¬ 
fore you left. I have a favor to ask of you.” 

“I shall be most happy to accommodate you, if I can, 
Mr. Craven. What is it ? ” 


[205] 


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^‘I bought tickets for the opera to-morrow evening. But 
I can’t go. I had a business appointment which had slipped 
my mind. I wish, if you can conveniently, you would take 
my tickets and accompany these ladies.” 

“Certainly; it will afford me pleasure to do so.” 

“Thank you. That’s a big load off my mind. One woman 
is a great care, two a double burden. I don’t see how those 
fellows in Utah manage them in droves. I’d rather undertake 
to manage a herd of mustangs.” 

Laughing, Mr. Grannell bowed himself out, and Ruby’s 
musical laugh rippled out with him. 

“How do you like him. Ruby?” inquired Mrs. Craven, 
after her husband had retired, and she and Ruby were alone. 

‘ ‘ He’s a prince! I’m in love with him already. But, 
0 Aunty I’m afraid retribution is about to overtake me.” 

Ruby laughed hysterically. 

“Why? What do you mean, child?” interrogated Mrs. 
Craven anxiously, as Ruby’s laugh ended in a gush of tears. 

“I began to flirt when I was a mere child, and I have 
been heartless as Satan.” 

‘ ‘ I am sorry to hear it, dear, but you are penitent. I see 
that. ’ ’ 

“No ordinary woman can win his affection,” sighed 
Ruby. 

“I agree with you, but you are not an ordinary woman. 
I know him well, — I watched him closely, and I read him. 
You have made a most favorable impression. Men are all 
alike, beauty’s bait never fails. Young and old, married and 
single, priest and layman, all get drunk at sight of it. Its 
power is invincible as absinthe. Three-fourths of the men will 
let go of God in their dying hour, to clasp beauty and go to 
perdition with it.” 

[206] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Ruby brushed the tears away and brightened. 

“I have trifled until I am nauseated. This is the first 
man I ever cared for. I am going to be good now. A man 
like Mr. Grannell is an inspiration. Hasn’t he an irresistible 
voice? There is a marvelous quality in it.” 

The next evening, on his way to attend the ladies to the 
opera, Mr. Grannell called on Mrs. Kahree, to explain why 
he was obliged to cancel the engagement he had made the 
previous evening to spend this evening with her. He knew 
she would excuse him, for they were now quite informal with 
each other; although she would not see him often, lest adverse 
criticism follow. 

Gwin felt disappointed; but she excused him cheerfully, 
wished him an enjoyable time, — and meant it. 

“I am willing to forego the pleasure of an evening, to 
have you go out socially, — it will do you good. I wish you 
would go oftener.” 

She glanced him over admiringly. 

Mr. Grannell was standing with a gloved hand resting 
upon the back of a chair. He dare not take time to sit down. 
The curtain would go up at eight. He had but thirty minutes 
to make it. His carriage was at the door. 

“Thank you.” 

The old, fond look was in his eyes, but almost with the 
next breath he remarked that Mrs. Williams was a most beau¬ 
tiful woman, — brilliant. 

A throb of pain shot through Gwin’s heart. Looking into 
his honest face and clear eyes she thought: 

“It would be excruciating. But if he should seek one 
who can give him closer companionship than I can bestow, 1 
could not object; though I believe it would kill me. It never 
before occurred to me that such a thing was possible. 

[207] 


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An evil spirit seemed to whisper: ‘ ‘ This is your reward 
for not having married him when you thought him dying. 
Even the Lord would have forgiven you.’’ Then the taunt 
of Judge Kahree’s attorney recurred to her mind, do not 
envy you all the pleasure you will get out of life if you 
continue to adhere to your present principles.” 

“Don’t let a thought of me mar your pleasure,” she 
smiled, as he again expressed regret at leaving her. “I have 
some new music. You know how time goes with me when 
I am at the piano. ’ ’ 

****••••«•> 

As the distinguished Edgar Grannell with Mrs. Williams 
and Mrs. Craven entered a box at the opera, many a glass 
was leveled at them and there were numerous inquiries as to 
who the superb young woman beside him was. 

“I thought,” said one lady, “that Mr. Grannell’s heart 
had — long since — turned to adamant. I wonder if this 
fair one has undertaken to soften so impenetrable a sub¬ 
stance ? ” 

The next evening, there was a dinner party to which Mr. 
Grannell, the Cravens and other distinguished guests were 
invited. The fourth evening there was a lecture, and Mr. 
Craven again requested Mr. Grannell to take his place and 
attend the ladies. The fifth evening, Mrs. Craven gave a 
coterie, and so it went. 

Two months passed; Mr. Grannell and Gwin had met 
only a time or two, for a few minutes. He always had a 
plausible excuse, and seemed to regret that business and social 
duties kept him so entirely occupied. 

Gwin had little time to think. She was busy with her 
class through the day, and at night she was so tired that 
she slept soundly, in spite of a feeling of unrest. She strove 

[208] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


to keep anxious thoughts out of her mind, and she chided 
herself when they came trooping up. 

One morning when Mrs. Kahree was giving one of her 
pupils a lesson, the girl suddenly turned. 

“Mrs. Kahree, did you ever see Mrs. Kuhy Williams, who 
is visiting Mrs. Craven?’^ 

“No.’’ 

you ought to see her! She is the most beautiful 
woman I ever saw. The men are all wild about her. But 
she has already caught the one she wants. They say she’s en¬ 
gaged to Edgar Grannell. You know him. Mamma says he 
hasn’t gone in society nor paid any attention to a lady for 
years. But he has been perfectly devoted to Mrs. Williams, 
ever since she came here. It is whispered that the nuptials 
are to be the most elaborate ever celebrated in St. Louis. We 
are sure of an invitation, for Mamma and Mrs. Craven are 
intimate friends.” 

For a moment Gwin’s head reeled, and she was white as 
marble. But the girl turned to the piano without observing it. 

With difficulty Gwin collected her scattered thoughts, and 
benumbed senses, sufficiently to finish the lesson. 

She was like one in a dream the remainder of the day. 
But she accomplished her accustomed amount of work with 
as much carefulness as possible. It was a relief when it was 
finished, and she could be alone. 

“Who would have thought it!” she whispered, as she 
sank to a chair unnerved, when the last pupil had gone. Her 
face was white and pinched. “I must now endure the shame 
of knowing that I love and always shall love another woman's 
husband. ’ ’ 

The following afternoon was Sunday. Gwin received a 
call from Mr. Grannell. She was expecting and dreading it. 

[209] 




BEYOND THE MENACE 


Gwin knew that his dinner was ready, and she was con¬ 
scious that he was aware of it; but he seemed loath to go. 
She thought she knew why, and her heart was throbbing with 
a dull ache. 

He can scarcely muster sufficient courage, she reasoned, 
and he dreads to go, until he has made a clean breast of it. 

He rose, took a few turns through the room, then stopped 
before a mirror and stood gazing into it abstractedly, when 
he caught a glimpse of something in Gwin’s face (who sat 
behind him, her gaze fixed upon him) which caused him to 
wheel suddenly. But he found her looking into the street. 

“Good-night,” he said, and was gone. 

Gwin drew a deep sigh. She was sorry he had not un¬ 
burdened his heart to her. “It would have been a relief to 
us both,” she murmured. 


Ruby Williams sank into a fit of the dumps, after what 
she saw at the window of Mrs. Banks’ boarding house. 

“Do you know who that was. Aunty?” 

“I don’t know the lady,” replied Mrs. Craven. 

The next morning, as soon as Mr. Craven had gone to 
his office and Ruby was alone with her aunt, she began again; 

“Really, Aunty, what is your opinion of what we saw at 
that window ? ’ ’ 

“Opinion? It isn’t worth a second thought. What is 
there so distressing in seeing a gentleman sitting at a window 
with a lady?” 

“It was his position and facial expression. Did you 
observe that his hand rested upon hers, and that he snatched 
it away when he saw us ? ” 

“What of it? I assure you he is too honorable to trifle 

[212] 



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with your affections. That lady may be a relative of his — 
or an old friend.” 

‘ ‘ Is there any way by which we may learn who she is ? ” 
persisted Ruby. 

“Yes; that was Mrs. Danks’ boarding house. The girl 
who does my plain sewing, sews, also for Mrs. Banks. I will 
inquire of her. ’ ’ 

While they were talking, the girl in question passed in 
at a side door and up the back stairs. Mrs. Craven rose and 
followed her. 

In the course of a half-hour she sought Ruby who was 
in her own room, looking very disconsolate. Mrs. Craven went 
at once to the subject. 

“She’s a music teacher and a widow. Mrs. Banks told 
the girl that she was once very wealthy, and held a high posi¬ 
tion in society.” 

“Well, that doesn’t explain what I want to know. What 
is she to him ? and what was he doing there ? ’ ’ 

“Why, Ruby, I couldn’t ask the girl such questions as 
that — she couldn’t have answered, if I had.” 

“Of course not, but — well — I’m going to know — that 
is all. I will ask him ! ’ ’ 

“Be careful, child; whatever you do, don’t let him have 
a glimpse of your jealous disposition, or your temper.” 

‘ ‘ I can not and will not endure suspense. He is to drive 
me to Forest Park this afternoon and I will improve the 
opportunity to put a few questions to him. 

“Be careful, child,” admonished Mrs. Craven again, 
shaking a finger at Ruby, as she left the room. 

Ruby waited with feverish impatience for the afternoon, 
and drew a sigh of relief when a carriage stopped before the 

[213] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Gwin knew that his dinner was ready, and she was con¬ 
scious that he was aware of it; but he seemed loath to go. 
She thought she knew why, and her heart was throbbing with 
a dull ache. 

He can scarcely muster sufficient courage, she reasoned, 
and he dreads to go, until he has made a clean breast of it. 

He rose, took a few turns through the room, then stopped 
before a mirror and stood gazing into it abstractedly, when 
he caught a glimpse of something in Gwin^s face (who sat 
behind him, her gaze fixed upon him) which caused him to 
wheel suddenly. But he found her looking into the street. 

“Good-night,” he said, and was gone. 

Gwin drew a deep sigh. She was sorry he had not un¬ 
burdened his heart to her. “It would have been a relief to 
us both,” she murmured. 


Ruby Williams sank into a fit of the dumps, after what 
she saw at the window of Mrs. Danks’ boarding house. 

“Do you know who that was. Aunty?” 

“I don’t know the lady,” replied Mrs. Craven. 

The next morning, as soon as Mr. Craven had gone to 
his office and Ruby was alone with her aunt, she began again: 

“Really, Aunty, what is your opinion of what we saw at 
that window ? ’ ’ 

“Opinion? It isn’t worth a second thought. What is 
there so distressing in seeing a gentleman sitting at a window 
with a lady?” 

“It was his position and facial expression. Did you 
observe that his hand rested upon hers, and that he snatched 
it away when he saw us ? ” 

“What of it? I assure you he is too honorable to trifle 

[212] 



BEYOND THE MENACE 


with your affections. That lady may be a relative of his — 
or an old friend.” 

Is there any way by which we may learn who she is?” 
persisted Ruby. 

“Yes; that was Mrs. Danks’ boarding house. The girl 
who does my plain sewing, sews, also for Mrs. Danks. I will 
inquire of her. ’ ’ 

While they were talking, the girl in question passed in 
at a side door and up the back stairs. Mrs. Craven rose and 
followed her. 

In the course of a half-hour she sought Ruby who was 
in her own room, looking very disconsolate. Mrs. Craven went 
at once to the subject. 

“She’s a music teacher and a widow. Mrs. Danks told 
the girl that she was once very wealthy, and held a high posi¬ 
tion in society.” 

“Well, that doesn’t explain what I want to know. What 
is she to him ? and what was he doing there ? ’ ’ 

“Why, Ruby, I couldn’t ask the girl such questions as 
that — she couldn’t have answered, if I had.” 

‘‘Of course not, but — well — I’m going to know — that 
is all. I will ask him! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Be careful, child; whatever you do, don’t let him have 
a glimpse of your jealous disposition, or your temper.” 

“I can not and will not endure suspense. He is to drive 
me to Forest Park this afternoon and I will improve the 
opportunity to put a few questions to him. ’ ’ 

“Be careful, child,” admonished Mrs. Craven again, 
shaking a finger at Ruby, as she left the room. 

Ruby waited with feverish impatience for the afternoon, 
and drew a sigh of relief when a carriage stopped before the 

[213] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


house, and, a minute or two later, Mr. Grannell was an¬ 
nounced. 

As they passed Mrs. Danks’ boarding house on their way 
to the park, Kuby glanced up at the window where she had 
seen Mr. Grannell the previous evening. 

^‘By the way, that was an interesting tableau I saw at 
that window yesterday. It would have made a fine art study. ’ ^ 

She turned her inquisitive eyes full upon him. 

Mr. Grannell shrugged. 

“That lady is the widow of a valued friend of mine. We 
have been friends for years, she and I. She holds a high 
place in my esteem.’’ 

* ‘ Has she been a widow long ? ’ ’ 

“Yes; several years.” 

With a breath of relief Ruby became her own sweet self, 
full of playful satire and ingenious wit. 

They had an enjoyable drive. Mr. Grannell felt well 
paid for the time he spent with Ruby. She had a rejuvenating 
effect upon him. On this particular afternoon she reached a 
pinnacle in sparkling repartee and eloquence. She quite sur¬ 
prised herself and she charmed Mr. Grannell. 


[214] 


CHAPTER XXI 


T here had been great commotion in Mr. Grannell’s home 
for several weeks. Dressmakers and deliverymen with 
boxes and bundles — some bearing the stamp ‘ ‘ Paris ’ ’ — were 
coming and going many times every day. Anna’s suite had 
had a copious shower of elegant gowns, hats, gloves, shoes, 
laces, and jewels. But at last her beautiful trousseau was 
finished. A maid was packing the last trunk now, while an¬ 
other was dressing the bride elect for the nuptials. 

Mr. Grannell at this moment was receiving and welcom¬ 
ing his guests, to witness the marriage of Anna Grannell and 
Harry Spencer. 

Only intimate friends had been invited. 

Among the latest arrivals were the Cravens and Mrs. 
Ruby Williams. 

As Edgar GranneU, bowing low over the hand of the 
queenly Ruby, welcomed her to his home for the first time, 
many admiring eyes were turned upon the twain, and a mur¬ 
mur went round: 

“There will be another wedding soon, and she will be 
the bride.” 

The whisper reached the ears of Mrs. Craven, who smiled 
approvingly. 

A band of music had been stationed in the grounds near 
the house. 

When the sweet strains of Annie Laurie were wafted 
softly in through open windows, a hush fell among the guests. 
Almost immediately Mr. Grannell appeared under the arch- 

[215] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


way at the lower end of the drawing room, bearing on his 
arm the fair bride. Passing slowly up to an altar of flowers 
banked in rich profusion, so rich that orchids smiled among 
them, and where a clergyman was waiting, they were met by 
the fond bridegroom and his attendant; and Harry Spencer 
received the coveted treasure from the hand of her uncle, and 
the twain were made one. 

As the ceremony began, a lady entered the drawing-room 
through the archway and remained standing near it, half 
hidden by a tall vase filled with ferns and trailing smilax. 
While simply attired—when she moved forward to offer her 
congratulations, after the ceremony was concluded,— many 
pairs of eyes and several inquiries followed her. 

Doctor Stanley crossed the room to where Mr. Grannell 
stood. 

“Who is the lady in gray with the pink sash, Edgar?” 

Mr. Grannell turned and glanced in the direction the 
doctor was looking; but failed to see a lady in gray with a 
pink sash. 

“There by the jardiniere. The lady with her face turned 
half away, who wears pink roses.” 

‘ ‘ That is my friend, Mrs. Kahree; come, I will introduce 
you.” 

“She’s married, then?” 

“A widow,” explained Mr. Grannell. 

“Did you ever see that picture of Queen Louise, of 
Prussia, by Richter?” inquired the doctor, as he and Mr. 
Grannell were making their way to where Mrs. Kahree was 
standing. 

“Yes.” 

“Isn’t she like it?” 

There was no reply; Edgar Grannell’s mind had reverted 

[216] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


to Cologne, to those sad days when he was a wanderer from 
native land, when, despite his pride; despite the fact that 
the slender woman near the door was a “ grass-widow, ” and 
he held them in contempt; despite the fact that she called 
herself another man^s wife; he had wandered to that art- 
gallery, day after day, and gazed hroken-heartedly upon that 
portrait. 

“Now, doctor,” said Mr. Grannell, after he had presented 
Doctor Stanley to Mrs. Kahree, “if you will excuse Mrs. 
Kahree a few minutes, I will return her to you. I wish to 
introduce her to some others.” 

Doctor Stanley bowed, and Mr. Grannell led Mrs. Kahree 
toward Mrs. Ruby Williams and the Cravens. 

Gwin immediately felt the weight of the scrutiny of 
Ruby’s black orbs, which had been watching her furtively 
since Mr. Grannell crossed the room to her with the doctor. 
The impression was conveyed to her mind that Ruby’s atti¬ 
tude toward her was inimical, and that Ruby suspected that 
she loved Edgar Grannell. 

The thought that she was about to be presented to Edgar 
Grannell’s fiancee, under such circumstances, was sickeningly 
humiliating. But when she found herself standing before 
Ruby, with those black eyes looking inquiringly into hers, 
there came a re-action from an inherent force. The blood, 
which for a moment left her face, went leaping through her 
veins in burning refluence, touching lips and cheeks with 
color, and setting blue shades to playing in her eyes. 

Mr. Grannell and Mrs. Kahree paused briefly, and ex¬ 
changed a few remarks with Mrs. Williams and Mr. and Mrs. 
Craven, then passed on to other guests. 

Although Mrs. Kahree’s manner was unperturbed, she 
felt very much as she did that night in Kansas City, at the 

[ 217 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


reception in her home, when she overheard the story which 
had shrouded her life with gloom. Now, as then, she was 
making no effort to outshine, nor shine at all. She was 
struggling for strength to endure. 

After presenting her to all his guests, Mr. Grannell re¬ 
turned her to Doctor Stanley. 

Euby Williams looked transcendently beautiful. She was 
at her best, sparklingly brilliant, and was soon the center of 
a dazzled group of men. 

But there were many in that drawing-room who were 
made conscious of a high distinctiveness in Gwin, which her 
mellifluous voice, the sinuous grace of her movements and the 
lure of her sincere eyes accentuated. 

At dinner, Euby was seated next to Mr. Grannell, and 
Gwin across the board beside Doctor Stanley. 

“I think,” observed the doctor, in an undertone, with 
an inclination of the head toward Mr. Grannell, “that con¬ 
gratulations are in order. It is currently reported that, at 
last, he has met his fate.” 

“Indeed!” 

Gwin’s answer was faint; the doctor did not catch it. He 
glanced at her face. “Jupiter,” he thought, “I believe I 
have made a discovery. I am sorry I said that. But I am 
surprised at Grannell. I thought he had better taste. That 
black ej^ed woman is a dazzling beauty, but I pity the man 
that gets her. ’ ’ 

“Aunty,” whispered Euby, when, at last, she had an 
opportunity to speak to Mrs. Craven. “Mrs. Kahree is mag¬ 
netic; and she’s in love with Mr. Grannell.” 

‘ ‘ What of it ? I have known a dozen women as magnetic 
as she, who at one time and another were in love with him, 
You see how much good it has done them. So long as you 

[218] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


are his choice, you needn’t care who loves him. If ever a 
man w^as infatuated, he is infatuated with you.” 

“Yes, I believe he is; but I am afraid of her influence.” 

“Nonsense! there is no danger as long as he can see you. 
Men haven’t crow sense when there is a handsome woman 
in sight.” 

This had the sound of a doubtful compliment, but Mrs. 
Craven was innocent of malicious intent, and Ruby grinned 
with amusement. 

Harry and Anna were to leave at one o’clock. So Gwin 
remained after the other guests had gone. 

When the last good-bye had been spoken, and the carriage 
bearing the bridal party had sped away to the railroad station, 
Mr. Grannell closed the hall door and turned to Gwin. 

“You are not in a hurry to go? I will take you home 
presently. ’ ’ 

He linked her arm through his, and led her back to the 
drawing-room. Then he wheeled an easy chair under the 
blaze of a chandelier, and seated her. For a few moments he 
stood before her looking down upon her with something like 
commiseration in his face. 

* ‘ He’s going to tell me that now; there’s no escape, ’ ’ she 
thought. 

“Procrastination is a bad thing,” he began, at last. “I 
have something I must say to you before I take you home.” 

Her heart beat wildly. “You needn’t tell me — I know 
it already.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes.” 

She was trying to keep her bosom from heaving, and her 
breath from coming in gasps. 

His lips parted with a smile. 

[ 219 ] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


“I think you are mistaken. No doubt you have heard 
some flying reports. Possibly you heard them before they 
reached me. My first hint came this evening in the form of 
congratulations upon my approaching marriage with Mrs. 
Ruby Williams. 

“Poor little Spartan! I saw all evening, and I thought 
several days ago, that something had gone wrong with you, 
but I persuaded myself that I imagined it. Really, though, 
I flattered myself that I stood better than this in your estima¬ 
tion. Did you think, after all we have suffered, that I could 
be untrue to you?” 

“Edgar, you are under no obligations to me. Had you 
thought of that?” 

There were tears in Gwin’s voice now. She was about 
to break down. 

“No, I have thought of nothing of the kind. I consider 
myself bound to you.” 

“I have a living husband, Edgar, and you have told me 
repeatedly that you had given up all thoughts of marriage 
with me. ’ ’ 

“Yes, so I have. But I never told you that I had given 
up all thoughts of affection. I love you as devotedly to-day 
as I ever did. You need my love as I need yours. I will 
remain true to you, until death separates us. I consider the 
relationship between us as sacred as if it had been celebrated 
by a ceremony, and before God and the holy angels, it is 
pure.” 

For a minute it seemed to Gwin as if her heart would 
burst with joy. Mr. Grannell still stood there with his gaze 
fixed upon her. She choked back her agitation, and managed 
to speak in a level voice. 

“But, Edgar, since you have paid such marked attention 

[220] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


to Mrs. Williams as to create this mistake in the public mind, 
hasn’t she misconstrued your attentions?” 

“No; of course she understands, and I supposed you did. 
The mistake is owing to Mrs. Craven’s insisting on my help¬ 
ing to entertain her, and keeping me so continually at it. 
Under ordinary circumstances, I probably would have re¬ 
fused; but I have known Mr. and Mrs. Craven all my life; 
they have been very kind to me and mine, I felt under some 
obligations; still, I had not counted on being monopolized to 
the extent that I was. Nor did I expect to be understood 
as courting Mrs. Williams; such a thought never entered my 
mind. I shall mention the subject to Mrs. Craven to-morrow. 
There is no serious harm done, I assure you — no injustice to 
Mrs. Williams.” 

Two days later Ruby Williams — very disconsolate — 
left St. Louis. She stopped at St. Charles for a visit. While 
there she met the Reverend Doctor Noble, a self-centered, 
though popular pastor of a church in that city, who forthwith 
removed a band of crape from his hat which token of sorrow 
he was wearing for his second wife. 

While defacing time had left a cruel stamp or two upon 
this illustrious gentleman, such as corpulence and a sparsely 
decorated crown, he wore a smooth, polished aspect. He was 
an orator, and a philosopher quite Periclesian in his notions. 
His plan for the church was artistic as that of the celebrated 
Greek statesman for Athens. He was careful not to say in 
plain words, Christ is no longer a drawing card; spirituality 
is a delusion: the Church has lost her grip; she can regain 
it only by being made a center of art and literature. But he 
tought it peripatetically, and flowery patterns of it were 
woven into his sermons, and, so skillful a linguistic juggler 
was he, that you were made to understand precisely what 

[221] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Tallyrand meant when he said, ‘‘Language was intended to 
conceal thought.’’ 

But Ruby cared not what the doctor preached. It was 
a case of love at first with him, and of indifference from first 
to last with her. However, his grief over the loss of a wife 
was again assuaged. 

After a courtship of six weeks, he and Ruby were mar¬ 
ried. After they had been married six weeks, the doctor felt 
more like wearing crape than ever before. But fate had 
decreed against his wearing it again. It was Ruby’s turn next, 
which came a year later. She tolerated it long enough to get 
back to Cincinnati, when she threw it aside and came out in 
gay colors, declaring that she hated men worse then poison. 


[222] 


CHAPTER XXII 


0 BE obliged to see one you love enduring a life of 



I drudgery while you, rolling in luxury, are denied the 
privilege of lifting a hand to aid, even while conscious that 
the health of that dear one is being jeopardized, is a trial 
most severe. This was now Mr. Grannell’s persecution. 

While Mrs. Kahree had heretofore shown remarkable 
vitality and endurance, they were passing through an exces¬ 
sively hot, enervating summer and her strenuous duties were 
too much for her. The doctor declared that she must quit 
work and take a j^ear^s absolute rest, as she was threatened 
with nervous prostration. This she could not see her way 
clear to do, and Mr. Grannell felt quite frantic about it. She 
had laid by some money, but not enough for a year’s vacation. 
Mr. Grannell tried to persuade her into accepting assistance 
from him. But she shook her head, smiled and tossed him a 
kiss from the tips of her fingers. 

“How kind of you! You mean well!’^ 

This was all the satisfaction he got. 

In the midst of this dilemma the letter from London 
arrived, bringing sadness, as well as gladness, to both Gwin 
and Mr. Grannell. 

While Gwin’s heart still retained a sort of mother-pity 
for Judge Kahree, a revulsion of feeling, caused by his divorc¬ 
ing her and remarrying, the circumstances of which were un¬ 
known to her, had worked a change in her which had enabled 
her to eliminate him from her affection. But now something 
of the old tenderness welled up and choked her utterance. 


[223] 


BEYOND THE MENACE 


Mr. Grannell took her in his arms. ‘ ‘ I, too, loved Arrel, ’ ’ 
he whispered, ^‘but we must drink the bitter with the sweet, 
and to me the sweet is very sweet! For to-morrow is our 
wedding day, and we will go home to dinner. Then come 
the bleak tempests, come poverty, sickness, blindness, we will 
stand by each other until death shall sever the tie.” 

“Amen!” she breathed, “Amen! Amen!” 

THE END. 


[224] 



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